


bring only what you must carry

by QueenWithABeeThrone



Series: there will be music despite everything (sw/mcu au) [4]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anakin Needs a Hug, Angst and Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover Pairings, M/M, Minor Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, break-up, loki is an asshole, odin's not evil but he's a little shit, the painful path to redemption, very minor mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 23:18:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8867287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenWithABeeThrone/pseuds/QueenWithABeeThrone
Summary: “John is a far better man than you,” says Thor, folding his arms. “He will not let me down. He never has.”


  Loki chuckles darkly, and says, “In some ways, Thor, you are still far too trusting.” He grins, showing too many teeth, and says, “When do we start?”

or: Anakin Skywalker starts the long path to redemption and takes three steps back, but manages to punch a god in the face along the way. Darcy Lewis falls in love and gets shit on by birds. a world is saved.





	

**Author's Note:**

> title from Natasha Trethewey's "[Theories of Time and Space](https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/theories-time-and-space)". part 2 of this 'verse's TDW, which is _sixty-five pages_ I'm crying.
> 
> also, some spoilers from Rogue One as there are characters from the film cameoing!

“So he’s your prisoner now?”

Thor considers it a good sign, that his father turns to look at him before dismissing everyone else at the meeting. There’s a chance he’ll listen to what Thor wishes to say, instead of simply dismissing him outright.

All right, it’s a slim chance, but Thor has been known to do more with less. He just hopes now is one of those times.

Everyone departs, Fandral eyeing Thor with some concern before he goes as well. Thor appreciates it, coming from him, and he smiles wanly in Fandral’s direction, before looking back at his father, stepping down from the ruins of the throne.

“I see he has not deigned to tell you yet,” says Odin.

“Tell me what?” says Thor. “I hardly got the chance to speak with him before your guards spirited him off to a glorified cell.”

“No matter,” says Odin, “perhaps the memory is punishment enough.” He looks at Thor then, his one eye narrowed. “Your friend _Foster_ remembers now, if that is any consolation.”

“It is not,” says Thor, sternly, as his father walks past him. “Why keep him here? You’ve said it yourself, he does not belong here, and if we cannot get the Aether out of him it will _kill_ him.”

“We do not need the Aether out of him,” says Odin, coldly. “As long as we have it, and him, Malekith will come, and we will fight him.”

“Yes,” says Thor, “fight, and die, Father. I’ve a better plan than that. One that does not involve our people dying at the hands of the Dark Elves--”

“You overestimate their chances, Thor,” says Odin, bitter and angry, so, so angry. “They are a bitter, broken people. We’ve broken them before, and we shall again.” He turns away, and Thor has never seen his father quite like this, bitter and angry and uncaring. “Malekith’s forces will all fall to Asgardian swords, you can mark my words.”

“At what cost?” Thor snaps, stepping forward, hand sweeping out to indicate the ruined throne, the broken pillars, the ship that brought Malekith here. “What price shall our people pay for breaking them? How many Asgardians will in turn fall to the daggers of the Dark Elves?”

“As many as I need them to!” shouts Odin, whirling around and slamming his scepter down hard enough that Thor feels the ground shake, just a little. “We will fight to the last drop of Asgardian blood, to the last Asgardian breath, if we have to.”

“We cannot let it come to that!” Thor yells back. “Not against an enemy that we are blind to, not against an enemy that has already proved it can decimate the finest warriors that Asgard has to offer.” He steps closer, towering over his father, and says, “The lives of our people are currency we can ill afford to barter with, Father. Not against an enemy like this.”

“And what will this plan of yours bring us?” snaps Odin. “Tell me, then, what do you intend to do?”

“I intend to bring John, and the Aether, to Svartalfheim,” says Thor. “Malekith wants the Aether, I will bring it to him. Once he draws it out of John, I will destroy it while it is exposed and vulnerable, and Malekith along with it.”

“And if you fail,” says his father, “then you risk a weapon of immense power falling into the hands of our enemies.”

“The risk is far greater, to us and to our people, if we do _nothing_ ,” says Thor. “Father, please--”

“I’ve heard enough,” says Odin. “The Aether stays here. I’ll say it again: we will fight to the last drop of Asgardian blood, if we have to.”

“Then what,” starts Thor, a lump growing in his throat. He swallows it back as Odin strides away, and says, his voice echoing off the ruined pillars of the palace, of his home, “Then what makes you different from Malekith?”

“The difference, my son,” says the Allfather, with a half-broken laugh, “is that I will _win_.”

Thor watches him walk away, each step heavy with grief and worry. The Queen of Asgard is still asleep, still healing, _still_ not out of danger, and worry for her twists Thor’s gut into knots. Worry for her, grief for the dead, seems to be twisting the Allfather as well into something else, something Thor barely recognizes as his beloved father, something angry and bitter and grieving for someone still alive.

He cannot let this continue, he knows this. He cannot let the Aether tear apart John, he cannot let the Dark Elves bring down Asgard, and he _cannot_ let his father turn into a heartless monster.

He needs Sif. He needs the Warriors Three--or two out of the three. He needs Heimdall.

And, may Asgard help him, he needs Loki.

\--

“Hey, Obi-wan,” says Ahsoka, when Obi-wan picks up, “do you know anyone who works in psychiatric care, or anything? Or in Scotland Yard.”

Obi-wan sighs, then glances at the two delivery boys, carrying new chairs for his café. “Go on ahead, I’ll come up when this call’s done,” he says, before turning back to his phone. “Sorry, had some furniture delivered. You were asking?”

“Do you know anyone who works in psychiatric care or Scotland Yard that I can talk to?” says Ahsoka. “Most of my contacts work for SHIELD or engage in, ah, underground activities, and you’re the only person I thought of who doesn’t fall under either category.” She pauses, then adds, “Besides the kids I used to babysit.”

“Why are you asking me?” says Obi-wan.

Ahsoka coughs, and says, “You know Dr. Erik Selvig?”

“The astrophysicist, yes,” says Obi-wan, tucking his free hand into a pocket. It’s a little colder than usual, for some reason, the bitter chill biting at his fingers. “And a better mentor to Anakin than I was.”

“Not true,” says Ahsoka, and it’s nice, that she has such faith in him despite him failing both her and Anakin. “Especially since he was, ah, kinda caught streaking at Stonehenge on TV.”

“No,” says Obi-wan. “ _No_.”

“Darcy says she’d like him back now,” says Ahsoka. “Since Anakin’s off in Asgard doing who knows what.”

“He always seemed so sensible,” says Obi-wan, horrified.

“Apparently he went, and I’m quoting Darcy here, _completely banana-balls after New York went down,_ ” says Ahsoka. “But--Obi-wan, we found a gravitational anomaly near the Thames, and weird things have been happening all over London: birds flying out of the ground, cars suddenly hovering in mid-air, the laws of physics taking a day off, stuff like that. Maybe Dr. Selvig knows something.”

“Or you could ask someone from SHIELD,” says Obi-wan.

“Like I said,” says Ahsoka, “we don’t exactly see eye to eye.” She sighs, and says, “Please, Obi-wan? Just give me a name so I can get started on figuring out wherever Scotland Yard put him.”

“Cin Drallig works at Scotland Yard,” says Obi-wan, after a moment, something twisting in his gut. A bad feeling, he thinks, but about what, he isn’t quite sure. “Ask for Reuben Gillard, and say that old Ben passed you on to him. He’ll know what you mean.”

“Thanks,” Ahsoka says, then, “It wasn’t your fault. What happened with Anakin, I mean.”

“If only I could believe that,” says Obi-wan, before hanging up and glancing at the alleyway. He steps closer, drawing a taser from inside the pockets of his coat.

He blinks at the sleeping--thing. Monstrosity. Whichever. It’s a scaly little thing, only a baby, with little nubs protruding from its back. He steps closer, and the scaly little thing wakes up, red eyes fixing on him.

It gives a little snarl, then pounces, trying to bite at his arm. All it succeeds in doing is tackling him to the ground and giving him a decently-sized bump on his head.

“Now, now,” says Obi-wan, with a huff, stretching his hand towards the scaly little beast, “I will not harm you, little one.”

The tiny beast bares its stubby little teeth at him, backing up as though he’s cornered it.

“Come now,” says Obi-wan, reaching out with the Force to connect with the agitated beast’s mind, to show it that he means no harm, “you’re a long way from home. Do you need a place to stay?”

The little beast shakes its head, and tentatively steps forward, pushing its head up inquisitively against Obi-wan’s palm.

“Well, hello, little one,” says Obi-wan, amused, and he rubs the top of the scaly little beast’s head. “I can’t really keep you, unfortunately, I don’t have the space for you. But if you show me where you came from, perhaps I can bring you home?”

The little beast turns away, makes a small, mewling noise in the direction of the alley’s end, where--well, there’s nothing there.

Obi-wan sighs. “I don’t see anything,” he says.

The beast whimpers.

“No, I really don’t,” says Obi-wan, patiently. “You’ll have to show me what you mean.”

The beast charges forward, and Obi-wan almost flings his hand out to stop it from charging right into the wall, only--

\--it suddenly _disappears_ , before it hits the wall, with a sucking noise.

Obi-wan stares, jaw dropping slightly, at the spot where the scaly little beast used to be. What was that Ahsoka had said? _Weird things have been happening all over London,_ yes.

“I have,” he says, to no one in particular, “a _very_ bad feeling about this.”

\--

“I need your help.”

“I cannot overrule my king’s wishes, not even for you,” says Heimdall, golden eyes stern.

“I’m not asking you to,” says Thor. “The realms need their Allfather strong and unchallenged, whether he is or not.” He breathes out, thinks of Odin’s cold dismissal of his concerns, the way the grief and the hatred are twisting his father into a cold, cruel king. “But he is blinded, Heimdall,” he continues, “by hatred and by grief.”

Heimdall watches him, golden eyes scrutinizing, before he says, “As are we all.”

“I can see clearly enough,” says Thor. “Clearly enough to have put together a plan, one that won’t more of our people dying.”

Heimdall sighs. “I heard your plan,” he says. “The risks are too great.”

“Everything we do from here on out is a risk,” says Thor. “But there is no other way.”

Heimdall looks away, then looks back at him and says, “What do you require of me?”

“Not much, at the moment,” says Thor. “But later--treason, of the highest order.”

\--

He finds Sif in the courtyard, raining blows down on a training dummy that has already been reduced to shreds and bits of stuffing, hanging from a wooden post.

He finds Volstagg, halfway through a seven-course meal, grieving for the men dead in the attack in his own way.

He finds Fandral, drilling recruits greener than grass in swordsmanship, their helmets too big for their heads and their breastplates and gauntlets slipping more than once.

He brings them all, along with Heimdall, to a small tavern, where the owner asks no questions save for _how much?_

He begins, “What I’m about to ask you is treason of the highest order.”

“Oh,” says Fandral. “Well. That’s cheery.”

Thor gives a small chuckle, and continues, “Success will bring us exile and failure shall mean our death.” He clasps his hands together and says, “Malekith knew the Aether was here. We can assume he can sense its power, or else _it_ can call to _him_ , somehow. If we do nothing, he will come for it again, but this time lay waste to _all_ of Asgard.”

“That is even cheerier,” says Volstagg, halfway through a mug of mead.

“You shush,” says Fandral.

“We must move John off-world,” says Thor, paying no heed to the two of them. “That is our best chance.”

Sif shakes her head. “The Bifrost is closed, and the Tesseract locked away in the vault. How will we move John off-world, when there is no way off-world?”

“There are other paths that lead away from Asgard,” Heimdall says, standing nearby. “Paths known only to a few.”

“One, actually,” says Thor.

Sif says, “No.”

Volstagg says, “ _No._ ”

Fandral says, “This just keeps getting better and better.” He sighs and props his chin up on his hands, and says, “He will betray you.”

“He will try,” says Thor. “But I have learned from my mistakes.” He puts a pair of cuffs down on the table, and says, “I borrowed--”

“Stole,” says Sif, unamused.

“ _Borrowed_ these off the new captain,” says Thor, with a little smile. “He will not miss them too much, I should think.”

“I’m getting a new captain,” says Fandral. “Or _I’m_ not, since I’m going to be committing treason. But I recommend that whoever takes my place should find a new captain, considering you managed to steal his handcuffs off of him.”

“It’s not a bad plan,” says Volstagg, “save for the fact that your mortal is being guarded by a legion of Einherjar.” He pauses, then adds, looking meaningfully at Fandral, “All of whom have been told to keep an eye out for you, I presume. It’ll make things a bit difficult for you to come for him.”

“I’m not the one coming for him,” says Thor, looking at Sif.

“Well,” says Sif, at last, shrugging, “the man promised me a tour. I intend to collect.”

“You’ve thought this through,” says Fandral, approvingly. “All right, what’s my role?”

Thor’s smile gets even bigger. “You know how to fly our ships,” he says. “You are--what did they call it, on Midgard? You are our getaway driver.”

“And what of the Allfather?” asks Sif.

“It is my sworn duty to notify him of crimes against the throne,” says Heimdall, wryly. “Who commits them, on the other hand, is something I have more leeway with.”

“All right,” says Volstagg, “but--assuming you can somehow secure Loki’s help, _and_ get your mortal lover past his guards, what good would it all do? We’d all be dead the minute we step outside the palace, and _don’t_ say anything, Fandral.”

Fandral shuts his mouth. “As the getaway driver,” he says, “I must agree with Volstagg. How are we to get away?”

“You assume,” says Thor, “that we’re leaving on foot.”

\--

The Aether is an ancient entity, that desires nothing more than eternal darkness consuming the universe, snuffing out the lights that have been blazing since the first dawn.

It swirls around in Anakin Skywalker’s body now, dragging him bit by bit into the darkness. It should be easier, now that his memory’s returned, but the damned witch’s words are keeping him from falling over the edge.

But that’s fine. It can wait. It has waited for a long, long time, and it can sense the presence of another Asgardian coming, its hateful light burning with a purpose.

So it waits.

\--

Thor walks down to the dungeons, and looks at all the empty cells, the broken spells, the bloodstains on the floor. There’s not much of the dungeons left, he thinks, and he’ll have to find some way to keep them from overflowing while they rebuild--

\--or not, he remembers.

He breathes out, then strides forward to the last cell, furnished with little luxuries all the other cells lack, where Loki turns to watch him.

“Thor,” says Loki, with a sickening smile and venom in his tone. “All this time gone, and you’ve only picked now to stop fucking your dear mortal _pet_ and visit me.” He steps forward, and snarls, “Why? Have you come to gloat? To mock?”

Thor watches him, and knows--this is a lie, an illusion. There are very few things that Loki loves in this world, now, and one of them is asleep, healing from a stab wound to the gut. He would not be so composed, knowing this. If he does know this.

“Loki, enough,” says Thor, and he’s surprised at how hard his voice is, how tired he sounds. “No more illusions.”

Loki steps away.

Then, with a green shimmer, the composed appearance of the cell disappears, and Thor finds himself staring through the golden spell to a cell in disarray--pages scattered everywhere, furniture smashed and broken, white walls streaked with black scorch marks.

And Loki, in the middle of it all, disheveled and broken.

“Now you see me, brother,” says Loki.

Thor huffs out a breath, then steps around to the other side of the cell, rubbing at his wrists. He needs to sell this, if he’s to have any chance of securing Loki’s help. He prays that Frigga will forgive him, for what he’s about to do, and knows that Odin will not.

“Is she all right?” says Loki.

Thor stops, watches this man he used to call his brother. “She’s healing,” he says, not wanting to burden him with what the healers have said of their mother’s chances, “but I did not come here to share our worry. Instead, I offer you the chance of a far richer sacrament.”

Loki inclines his head. Good, he’s got him hooked. “Go on.”

“I know you seek vengeance upon Malekith as much as I do,” says Thor. “You help me and John escape Asgard, and I will grant you the vengeance you seek. Afterward, you will return to this cell.”

“You, and your pet?” says Loki, with a bitter laugh. “You’re truly desperate, if you’re coming to me for help.” He smirks up at Thor, and says, “Do you know the monster you’ve brought to Asgard, Thor? What makes you think you can trust him, or me?”

“I trust John with my life,” says Thor, with firm conviction, trying not to think about the smug way that Loki smiles up at him as though he knows something about John Foster that Thor doesn’t, “as I once trusted you.”

“Trusted,” says Loki. “You don’t trust me anymore.”

“No,” says Thor. “But Mother did. She still does.”

“Did she tell you that?” says Loki, baiting him. As always.

“She cares for you,” says Thor. “I once did as well. That was why I still considered you my brother, when we fought each other in the past. That was why I clung on to the glimmer of hope, that my brother was still somewhere inside the murderer that you’d become.” He steps forward, and says, calmly, “That hope no longer exists to protect you. Should you betray me, know that I will not hesitate to kill you.”

“And what of your pet?” says Loki. “Should he betray you, what will you do?”

“John is a far better man than you,” says Thor, folding his arms. “He will not let me down. He never has.”

Loki chuckles darkly, and says, “In some ways, Thor, you are still far too trusting.” He grins, showing too many teeth, and says, “When do we start?”

\--

It’s a nice cell, all things considered.

For one thing, there’s a lovely view. For another, he’s not restrained, he just--can’t go anywhere outside the room. For another, Odin’s put a guard on him at all times, as an extra measure to keep Anakin from breaking out, which sort of defeats the pretense of Anakin being a guest in the palace.

Not that Anakin’s really planning on leaving. He’d half-expected to be thrown in the dungeons, that’d be the least he deserves. Even the view is more than he thinks he deserves, let alone all the amenities.

If he stays here, no one else will get hurt because of him. Darcy can move on to another internship, one much more suited to her major. Selvig can heal, from the scars that Loki left on his psyche. Ahsoka--

_Ahsoka._

Anakin draws his knees up to his chest. Ahsoka could be happy, at last, without her former master around. What he’s done to her, the hurt that he’s caused her, is something that can hardly be forgiven.

And Thor--oh, god, _Thor_.

He’ll move on. He’ll find someone better for him, someone who’ll live as long as he does, someone who doesn’t have thousands of corpses littered behind him, someone who didn’t _hurt his own family_ , even unknowingly. Anakin wishes him all the best, he does, even if it breaks his heart to do so.

So he’ll stay here. Everyone will be safe from him, everyone won’t be stained by the blood on his hands and on his name and--

Someone knocks on the door. He looks up, just in time to watch it swing open, a man in golden armor walking in, bearing a plate of food.

“I’m not hungry,” he says.

The guard sighs, and opens his mouth before someone smacks him on the head and he drops.

“Good,” says Sif, knocking out the other guard with a casual backhand. “We need to go.”

“What?” says Anakin. “What, I--no, I’m not going.”

Sif stares at him. “Why not?” she asks. “John--”

“Anakin,” he says. “My name. It’s Anakin Skywalker.”

“Huh,” says Sif, with no flash of recognition. “Anakin, then. Why can’t we go?”

“I stay here, no one gets hurt because of me,” Anakin explains.

“If you stay here,” says Sif, her voice hard, “then Malekith will attack again, and more Asgardians will die. More _people_ will die, and the Dark Elves will lay waste to Asgard.” She inclines her head, and says, bluntly, “If you stay here, more people will get hurt because of you.”

Anakin stares down at the guards, unconscious. They’re young, he thinks. They look much younger than he was, when the Clone Wars began. If he stays here, he draws Malekith’s attention to Asgard, and these men--these _boys_ will die.

He huffs out a breath, says, “Okay.”

Sif smiles. “Good,” she says. “Come with me.”

He follows her out, tying his hair back in a hurried ponytail, slipping his jacket on and stealing a sword from one of the unconscious guards, and doesn’t look back. It’s heavy in his hand, much heavier than his lightsabers, he’s not quite used to that. He slips it into his belt.

“So you remembered now?” says Sif, as they walk down the corridors. Occasionally, one of them has to knock out a guard who’s stumbled on them.

“Unfortunately,” Anakin mutters. “What do you know about the Jedi, or the Sith?”

“I’ve never heard of them,” says Sif, and Anakin doesn’t need to look in the Force to know she’s telling the truth. Sif is a blunt, honest sort of woman. “I assume you had something to do with them.”

“A lot, yeah,” Anakin says. “The short version is that, I’m from another universe entirely, and I used to be. Um. As bad as Loki.”

“I find that hard to believe of you now,” says Sif. “Speaking of Loki, though, Thor’s gone to break him out.”

“ _Why?_ ” says Anakin, stopping in his tracks for a moment.

“All other paths off-world are closed to us,” says Sif, stopping as well and impatiently cocking her head, gesturing for him to keep up. He sighs, and hurries to her side. “Loki is perhaps the one being who knows another way off Asgard, ways besides the Bifrost and the Tesseract.” She glances at him as they keep walking, and says, “Another universe, you say?”

“A galaxy far, far away,” says Anakin, absently. “I’m still trying to process it.” He hesitates, then says, carefully, “I’ve--I’ve done such terrible things, Sif.”

Sif’s eyes soften, for a moment. “If it helps, Anakin Skywalker,” she says, “no matter what you have done in your past, I will consider you a friend.”

“That’s--” Anakin starts. “Thank you. I guess. You don’t really know who you’re trying to befriend, though.” _Or what._

“I think I do,” says Sif, turning the corner. “You’re a good warrior. One day we must spar again, or else I must spar with whoever taught you.”

Anakin follows half a step behind her, and says, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. The last time I ever saw him, he was--” He stops, a memory resurfacing of a man with copper hair, smiling sadly at him, a shot of whiskey in his hand. “Motherfucker,” he says, cold realization dawning, “the last time I saw him I tried to flirt with him in a bar.”

He is absolutely going to punch Obi-wan for that, later. For a great number of things, later, if he can find the man. If he even wants to find the man.

“Ah,” says Sif, looking deeply amused. Anakin scowls at her, then hurries on ahead.

“You’re heading the wrong way,” she calls. Anakin whips around and follows after her, hurrying up his pace to catch up with her stride. “The time before that?”

“He was rusty, I was angry, I kinda killed him,” says Anakin. “I think. He faded just when my blade landed, so I’m not completely sure.” He pauses, then adds, “But I don’t know if he’s kept up now either. I know I haven’t, but then I’ve got an excuse.”

“Hm,” says Sif. “I’d love to see for myself.”

“I’ll pass it on if I ever find him,” says Anakin, dryly. He wonders how he’s going to tell Obi-wan about it-- _hey, asshat, why didn’t you tell me who I was when I flirted with you? Also, my friend the actual Norse goddess Sif wants to kick your teeth in._

They turn a corner.

“Oh,” says Anakin, catching sight of a man in green. “God _dammit_.”

\--

Loki’s heard of the Sith, and the Jedi. How could he not? Where Thor and Sif and all the others played and made merry, Loki had holed up in the library, and read tales of how, once upon a time, the Asgardians could even traverse _universes_. Some had even brought back tomes he had devoured, seeking knowledge, seeking ways to refine his magic. The Force had been brought under consideration, before being handily dismissed, because of the prerequisite of _midichlorians_.

Ridiculous, if you ask him.

He’s heard of the Chosen One. He’s _read_ about the Chosen One, drank in words about someone who would bring balance to this Force and dreamed about one day being as celebrated as this Chosen One seemed to be, even while unborn.

He’s only learned about the Chosen One’s fate some years back, gathering information on Midgard to use in his conquest, on who amongst Thor’s loved ones on that backwards little planet he could turn. He’d toyed, briefly, at the idea of somehow bringing back Darth Vader, dormant within John Foster, but Foster had been spirited away before Loki could find him, no thanks to Fury’s paranoia. So uncharacteristic, for a Jedi Master.

And now here he is, whole and powerful, even more powerful now thanks to the Aether in his veins. Loki imagines, briefly, bringing Vader to heel, turning him loose on Asgard, then the rest of the galaxy. Maybe he’ll succeed where the Emperor failed, he thinks--the Emperor had not counted on Vader’s son, but as Luke Skywalker is not here, there’s nothing stopping Loki.

He smiles at Vader, sensing the darkness swirling around him like a cloak, and says, “Ah, Lord Vader. You may have heard of--”

He doesn’t get far before Vader’s--before _Skywalker’s_ metal fist lands against his cheek, sends him to the ground. Then the man pounces, and the next thing Loki knows the bastard’s arm is around his throat and he’s snarling something about _New York_ \--

“John, let go of him,” says Thor.

Skywalker lets go of him, the red seeping out of his irises. “Asshole fucked with Selvig and tore up my favorite diner,” he says. “I’m a little bit entitled to choking him out.”

“I like him,” Sif declares. “Your taste in lovers has clearly started to improve, Thor.”

“I would say it’s degraded,” Loki mutters, getting to his feet, a hand going up to the bruise on his cheek that Skywalker’s fist has left. It was a nice dream while it lasted, he supposes.

“My taste is fine, thank you,” Thor says. “John--”

“Anakin,” says Skywalker. “My name’s Anakin Skywalker.”

“Also known as Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith,” Loki dryly says.

“Which I don’t go by anymore,” says Skywalker, testily, glaring at him before he looks back at Thor, eyes softening. Oh, it’ll be fun riling _him_ up, Loki can tell, and since Thor isn’t rising to his bait anymore--well, not _often_ \--he’ll have to make his own entertainment. “It’s just Anakin now. Or--John, I guess. Whichever you’re more comfortable with.”

“Anakin, then,” says Thor, looking at Skywalker with eyes full of affection. _Affection_ , Loki cannot believe this man sometimes. “Please don’t murder Loki. We need him to show us a way off Asgard.”

“Fine,” says Skywalker. “But if he betrays you, I’m not going to be held responsible for what I do to him.”

There’s going to be a line, Loki’s pretty sure.

\--

“Stop Thor. By any means necessary.”

\--

“Looks like we’ve been found out,” says Loki, and Anakin turns to see a small army of Einherjar, marching up the stairs. His free hand shakes from the sound of their footsteps, and he stuffs it into a pocket.

“Go,” says Sif, voice hard. “I’ll hold them off.”

“Sif--” Anakin starts.

Thor looks at Anakin, then at Sif, then he exhales. “Thank you,” he says, quiet, before he looks back at Anakin and says, “Let’s go.”

“Right behind you,” says Anakin, sparing Sif one last glance. “You’ll come by?”

“You owe me a guided tour,” Sif says. “Yes, of course I’ll come by.” She nods to the stairway and says, “Go.”

Anakin goes. A few seconds later, he hears clinking chains, light footsteps, and a cheerily smug voice saying, “Well, Master Skywalker, I believe you’ll have some competition.”

“Doctor,” says Anakin, determinedly not looking at Loki’s smug smile, unless he punches him again. “I earned that doctorate in particle physics, you piece of shit. What did you earn lately, besides a prison sentence?”

“My birthright as king,” says Loki. “Which, might I remind you and my brother, I was told I had my whole life.” He huffs out a dark laugh, and says, “All I did was give truth to that lie.”

“You’re king of something, all right,” Anakin mutters. “King of being delusional.”

“This,” says Thor, ahead of them, contemplatively, “is going to be a very long trip.”

\--

They step into the ruined throne room, the debris still lying around the Dark Elves’ ship, the throne in pieces. Anakin vaults over a pillar, lying on the ground, and looks up at the ship. “I call dibs on flying it,” he says, decisively.

“Oh,” says Thor, dejected. “I wanted to fly that.”

“Boo-hoo, we don’t always get what we want,” Loki grumbles.

Volstagg greets Anakin by hugging him so hard that he’s pretty sure he heard something crack in his ribcage. Whatever, he’ll deal with possible cracked ribs, later. “Foster!” he says. “It is good to see that you have not succumbed to the Aether yet. Or to murdering Loki.”

“Not for lack of trying on that last part,” says Loki.

“Skywalker,” says Anakin, as Volstagg puts him down. “Anakin Skywalker. That’s my name, unless you’re comfortable with John Foster.”

“Anakin, then,” says Volstagg, cheerfully, before he steps forward to take Thor’s hand, in a gesture of camaraderie, as well. “I will give you as much time as I can,” he says, solemn now in a way Anakin hasn’t seen out of him. Then again, he doesn’t know the man very well, only ever fed him bacon and eggs the one time.

“Thank you, my friend,” says Thor, his smile sad, before he continues on up the ship’s ramp. Anakin hangs back, to watch Volstagg stop Loki in his tracks and fix a dark glare on him.

“If you even _think_ about betraying him,” Volstagg starts.

“You’ll kill me,” Loki says, deadpan. “You’ll want to get in line.”

Anakin huffs out a laugh, then climbs the ramp up into the ship itself. It’s a fascinating design, and he spins around in place for a moment, wishing he’d brought his camera along to catch the circle hanging from the ceiling, the two control panels jutting out from the center, the cracked texture of the walls.

“Do you know how to fly this?” says Thor, sounding worried. “I could--”

Anakin steps forward, into the center, and rests his hands on the panels. “I can learn,” he says, with as much confidence as he can muster. “Um,” he says, when nothing happens.

“Learn quickly,” says Loki, dryly, as he steps into the cockpit, cocking his head towards where footsteps are echoing off the halls of the ruined throne room. “Or we’re going to have much more company than we can deal with in a moment.”

“I could toss him out an airlock,” says Anakin, frantically pressing buttons. “We don’t really need him that much, right?”

“Please don’t,” says Thor, long-suffering. “Yes, we do.”

“Hit them harder, that should work,” says Loki.

“I will fucking _do it_ , I swear,” says Anakin, slamming down much harder on a button than he should. The screens come to life around him, and he grins smugly at Loki before he turns to the front screen.

\--

They lift off.

“I think you missed a column, Master Skywalker,” says Loki, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“And I think you should shut up,” Anakin shoots back.

Thor lets out a long breath, and scrubs his hand down his face.

\--

The thing about flying is that Anakin _loves it_. He’d forgotten how much, to be honest, and now it all floods back, the podrace, the ships he’s flown, even his own custom TIE fighter--he’d loved flying before Vader, and still had a predilection for it even as Vader.

It’s exhilarating, now. He’s been grounded for so long he’s half-forgotten what it felt like to fly like this, has _forgotten_ how good it felt--

“Why don’t you let me take over,” says Loki, at his back, souring the whole thing. Anakin briefly fantasizes about choking him, before snapping his attention back to navigating the ship through Asgard without getting them all killed. “I’m clearly the better pilot.”

“Okay, between the three of us,” says Anakin, a headache building behind his eyes that he ignores in favor of concentrating on getting them out of Asgard with minimal property destruction, “which one of us managed to navigate his way through a warzone in a ship he had no experience with at nine? Because this is almost exactly like that.”

“And between the three of us,” says Thor, dryly, “which one can actually fly?”

Anakin eyes the opening up ahead, flips the ship upside-down to slip them through it with minimal damage.

“You’re welcome,” he says, just as the rear view screen pulls up of its own volition, displaying winged ships on their tail. “Shit.”

“Oh, now they’re following us,” says Loki.

Anakin grits his teeth past the headache, past the annoyance, past the building scarlet anger. He can’t launch torpedoes at these people, he can’t get into a dogfight with them, that would defeat the whole point of smuggling him off-world. He’s _tempted_ to, but--no.

He gets even more tempted to when the first barrage passes narrowly beside them, managing to graze the ship.

“And now they’re firing at us,” says Loki.

“Stop distracting him, Loki, you’ll get us all killed,” snaps Thor, holding on to a railing as Anakin weaves past an array of turrets, firing madly on them. “Right! _Right_ , Anakin, turn _right_ \--”

Anakin swerves right, and smashes part of a monument as he does so.

“Not one word out of both of you,” he says.

“I didn’t say anything,” says Loki. “Though, weren’t you better than this at nine years old?” He makes a _tsk_ ing sound with his tongue, and says, “You see the value of keeping your skills sharp, Thor?”

“You’re not dragging me into this,” says Thor, firmly.

“The airlock’s still a viable option,” says Anakin, swerving right and accidentally damaging two statues in the process. He’d feel guiltier about it, he supposes, if he’d known either of them. “You know. Just in case.”

“Well done,” Loki says, “you’ve gone and decapitated Thor’s grandfather _and_ his great-great-uncle. You’re _quite_ the pilot.”

“Sorry,” says Anakin, to Thor.

“Apology accepted,” says Thor, even as Anakin slices through half the columns before he corrects the ship’s position, a task made all the harder by the ships firing on them and the pounding headache. “I always thought my grandfather’s statue’s eyes were too big anyway.”

“You have very little taste in architecture,” Loki says, as Anakin brings them out to the sky, then sends the ship into a dive near the bridge, bringing it up just in time so the point is skimming the water. “And I say that to the both of you.”

“I’m going to throw him out an airlock,” says Anakin, to Thor. “So what’s the next step, anyway?”

“Oh, yes, tell us what the next step in your _brilliant_ plan is, Thor,” says Loki, stepping around Anakin. “What’s your next tremendously wonderful idea? What could _possibly_ outdo stealing the biggest, most obvious ship in the universe and escaping in that, flying around the city, smashing into everything in sight so everyone can see us? What next _absolutely brilliant_ plan do you have for us, Thor--”

“Open the airlock,” says Thor, while Loki’s ranting.

Anakin chuckles, even past the headache, and presses a button. The airlock, just behind Loki, slides open.

“Truly brilliant, really,” Loki’s ranting, “why, I’m surprised we never consulted you on stealth before! You’re clearly _such_ an expert at it, and letting _Darth Vader_ , a vicious attack dog, drive for us, how incredibly inspired of you--”

Thor shoves him out an airlock.

“I was gonna do that,” says Anakin, somewhat faintly.

“Can you set this to autopilot?” says Thor. “Fandral’s waiting for us below.”

“Yeah,” says Anakin, absently, pressing a few buttons and setting a course for--for somewhere, he’s not sure, at this point the headache’s grown bad enough that he has no real clue what course he’s setting. He closes his eyes against the pounding drum of pain in his head, massages his temples with fingers made of flesh.

A second later, he’s blinking up into Thor’s blue eyes, cradled in the man’s arms. They’re very nice arms, he thinks. Sturdy, well-muscled, and warm. Thor’s very, very warm, and very, very bright in the Force, like sunlight, blinding like a flash of lightning from a stormcloud. He thinks. It’s hard to think with a headache this bad.

He closes his eyes, feels the wind whipping past his face as Thor jumps.

\--

“John Foster!” says Fandral. “What a pleasure to see you again--”

“‘S’Anakin,” Foster-- _Anakin_ mumbles, as Thor lays him gently down near the bow, caresses his cheek and tucks strands of his hair away from his face. “Skywalker. ‘S’my name.”

“Anakin Skywalker, then,” Fandral corrects, before he turns to Loki and smiles, charmingly. “I see your time in the dungeons has made you no less graceful, Loki! I could not have made a better jump myself.”

Loki answers by giving him an impressive glare, which is just _rude_ of him. Then he turns to Thor and says, “You _lied_ to me.”

Which is definitely not something Fandral ever figured Thor would be good at, especially lying to _Loki_. He’s learning quite a few things today, apparently. No one’s ever told him treason would be such a good learning opportunity.

“I’m impressed,” says Loki, after a moment’s pause, with a proud smile.

“I’m glad you’re pleased,” says Thor, gruffly, as he stands. “Now do as you promised--take us to your secret pathway.”

Fandral steps aside, to let Loki take charge. Unlike Sif and Volstagg, who have both most certainly threatened the man, Fandral isn’t quite so _uncouth_ as to jump to threatening a man in cuffs, no matter what he’s done in the past.

He does give Loki a dagger-sharp smile, though, before he turns to Thor. “I know that name,” he says, quiet.

“Loki’s said,” says Thor, looking at Anakin, sleeping peacefully. He looks so young, Fandral realizes, and so vulnerable. “He called him a _dark lord_. I may not know what the Sith are, but I have faced dark lords before. John-- _Anakin_ is not one, anymore.”

“Sometimes, Thor,” says Fandral, with a sigh, “the company you keep worries me.”

“Are you counting yourself among them?” says Thor, with a smile.

“Oh, surely not!” says Fandral, affronted, placing his hand over his heart. “You wound me. I am a shining gem, amidst your grubby company.”

“And I am glad to have you,” says Thor, always so sincere that it catches Fandral off his guard.

And, of course, the moment just _has_ to be ruined by someone finding and shooting at them. Fandral really cannot believe their luck, sometimes.

Loki pulls the ship up from the water, until they’re just above the other ship. Fandral peers down at it, sees the two recruits he’d been training just over half a day ago, and lets out a long sigh.

“Fandral,” says Thor.

Fandral takes the rope in hand, smiles brilliantly at Thor. “Well,” he says, nodding to Thor, “for Asgard.”

He jumps.

\--

“ _Loki--_ ”

“If it were easy,” says Loki, very carefully steering them into the hidden way, adjusting and readjusting the course, one wrong move now and this will end very, very badly for all of them, “everyone would do it.”

“Are you _mad?_ ” Thor shouts.

Loki shrugs. “Possibly,” he says.

Anakin stirs, blinks blearily up at Thor, then at the crevice. “Mother _fucker_ ,” he says, as Thor moves closer, as if to cover him. How sickeningly sweet of Loki’s dear brother.

\--

They make it.

“Ta-da,” says Loki, in a singsong voice.

Anakin squints blearily at him. “There’s two of you now,” he says, sounding deeply horrified, then turns to Thor and says, “I deserve a lot of shit, but I don’t deserve two of your homicidal brother,” before he passes out.

\--

The Aether _knows_ this place.

This--This is its _home_. The fool Asgardians have brought it _home_ , to destroy it.

And Malekith is nearby, resting from his attack. It calls to him, takes hold of Skywalker’s Force-senses to wake Malekith up and _sing_ , much louder now: _I’m here I’m here I have come for you._

It’s not easy, trying to take hold of a sense that doesn’t belong to you, but rather to another ancient and powerful entity. But if there’s one thing the Aether understands and has in abundance, it’s stubborn spite.

And soon enough, darkness, in abundance as well.

\--

Thor pulls a blanket up, over Anakin’s sleeping form. Anakin stirs, just slightly, murmurs something about _Padmé_ before he’s still again, breathing shallowly. He looks so young, sleeping like this, but so tired as well.

“This will be over soon, I promise,” Thor says, and presses a brief kiss to Anakin’s forehead.

“What I could do with the power that flows through those veins,” says Loki, and Thor sits back up to look at him.

“It would consume you,” says Thor, firm.

“I wasn’t talking about the Aether,” says Loki, fingers tapping out an idle rhythm on cold metal. “Did you know what they called him back in his universe? Before Darth Vader?” He smiles, cold. “The _Chosen One_ , son of the Force, son of suns. The man with so much power that it burned him out, in the end.” He shakes his head, says, “How did he hide it for so long, I wonder.”

“I imagine the amnesia had something to do with it,” says Thor. “But enough talk about power, the man is ill. We need to get the Aether out of him.”

“He seems to be holding up all right,” says Loki. “For a mortal. And for now.”

“He’s strong in ways you will never know,” says Thor. “And I _don’t_ mean power, Loki. Not all strength lies in simple power.”

“You have changed,” says Loki, begrudgingly. “In that aspect, I’ll give you that, but not even Skywalker’s strength can hold out for much longer, against the Aether.” He looks at Anakin, then back at at Thor and says, almost _sad_ , almost like the brother who’d once helped Thor burn the body of a beloved and illicitly-obtained pet, “Say goodbye.”

“Not today,” says Thor, determined, looking up at the man he once called brother.

“Oh, the irony,” says Loki, standing up, and the brother that Thor had loved disappears, leaving behind a snarling, bitter creature wearing his face. “This day, the next day, a hundred years from now, it’s nothing, it’s a _heartbeat_. How long do we usually live, Thor? Five thousand years, give or take?” He sweeps his cuffed hands towards Anakin, snoring peacefully. “He will age, he will _die_ , and the only person whose love you’ve prized so _much_ will be snatched from you before you’re ready.” His smile twists into a sneer, and he says, “And you will _never_ be ready for that.”

“And will that satisfy you?” Thor snaps, standing up as well.

Loki glances towards Anakin again, says, “Satisfaction’s not in my nature.”

Thor steps forward and says, dark and angry and fiercely determined, “Surrender is not in mine.”

“It’s not surrender if it’s a force of life that you’re up against,” says Loki, tongue quick as a whip and just as harsh. Thor doesn’t flinch away, but instead steps forward. “But what did I expect, from the son of Odin--”

“Not _just_ of Odin,” Thor snarls. “You think you alone love Mother? You have her tricks, but _I_ have her trust--”

“ _Trust?_ ” spits Loki, the word like venom falling from his lips. “Was that the last thing she expressed, before you let that monster stab her, because she was defending _your_ pet? _Trust?_ ”

“What help were you,” Thor growls, “in your cell?”

“Who put me there, then?” Loki snarls back. “ _Who put me there?_ ”

Thor closes the distance between them, slamming Loki against the stern, arm against his throat. “You know _damn well_ why!” he shouts. “ _You know damn well what you did!_ ”

He raises his fist, almost, _almost_ ready to slam it into Loki’s face. Murdering, lying, _traitorous_ \--

He breathes out, shaky, and lowers his fist, then steps back. “She wouldn’t want us to fight,” he says, thinking of the Queen of Asgard, still asleep, still healing. He might never see her again, never hug her again, and it breaks his heart to think of the danger that she is still in.

Loki straightens up, fixes himself as best as he can with his hands cuffed. “Well, she wouldn’t exactly be shocked,” he says, dryly, and smiles at him. Not one of the usual cold, cruel smiles, but something closer to what Thor used to see from him.

It breaks his heart, to remember those days. It breaks his heart, to smile back, small and sad, knowing things will never be the way they used to be between them.

“I wish I could trust you, Loki,” he says.

Loki stares at him, then says, “Trust my rage.”

Anakin stirs, just then, blearily sits up and says, “I missed anything? I heard shouting.”

“Everything’s fine,” says Thor, looking between him and Loki. “All right, we still have a plan to carry out here--”

“You planned this far,” says Loki. “Impressive. Most impressive.” Thor doesn’t miss the meaningful smirk he shoots at Anakin.

“Can I throw him off the boat?” says Anakin, squinting angrily at Loki. “No one would miss him. I wouldn’t miss him.”

“No,” says Thor, “because we’re going to need him for this next part,” and he starts telling them the rest of the plan.

\--

“You’re, uh.”

“Black,” says Ahsoka, annoyed. “Yeah. There’s this funny little thing called adoption.”

“Right, right,” says the man at the counter, before sliding the form across to her, trying not to meet her stern gaze. “Just--sign here for your father’s belongings, Ms. Selvig.”

“Thanks,” says Ahsoka, still annoyed, and presses the pen down harder against the form than she probably she should as she signs the fake name. By the time they figure out that Ashley Selvig does not actually exist, she, Darcy and Dr. Selvig will be long gone from here. Hopefully.

Darcy tiptoes up behind her, leans on her shoulder as the man puts Selvig’s belongings on the counter--a brown leather wallet, a keyring with three keys, and a plastic bag full of prescription medicine. “That’s not a lot of stuff,” she says.

“And,” says the man, lifting up some scientific equipment, “these.”

“Oh,” says Darcy, before she peels away, turning on her heel. “Erik!”

“Huh,” says Ahsoka, stuffing some of the more portable items into her bag, and lifting the equipment onto her shoulder. She steps away from the counter, to see the same old man from the TV walking down the corridor, thankfully clad in an ugly Christmas sweater and running shorts. “Well, that’s a lot more clothes than I expected,” she says cheerfully.

“Erik,” says Darcy, again, waving her hand.

Selvig squints at Darcy. “Yes?” he says.

“It’s me,” says Darcy, sounding deeply discouraged, “Darcy. Doc’s--John’s intern.”

Selvig’s eyes practically light up, and he charges forward, wrapping Darcy in a hug. “Darcy, it’s so _good_ to see you,” he says, as Darcy pats him on the back.

“Aww, I missed you too,” Darcy says.

“Hi, _Dad_ ,” says Ahsoka.

Selvig squints at Ahsoka, no recognition in his eyes, before Darcy whispers something in his ear and he says, in the most unbelievable monotone and while still hugging Darcy, “Oh. Yes. Ashley. My daughter. Who I adopted. How did you find me?”

“You were streaking on TV,” Darcy says. “At Stonehenge.”

“I had a friend in Scotland Yard who told me you were here,” says Ahsoka, and that’s the most truthful thing she’s ever said in the last few minutes. No need for anyone to know Drallig told her that Selvig was a bit nuts. “Time to go, you guys.”

“We got lots to do,” says Darcy, her smile growing ever more fixed the longer the hug lasts. “It’s getting weird now, bee-tee-double-you.”

“Right, right,” says Selvig, breaking away and grabbing the bag of prescription medicine from Ahsoka’s hand. “Where’s John?”

“Doc sorta got kidnapped to Asgard by his boyfriend Thor,” says Darcy, leading the way out of the facility. “And before that we checked out a floating truck near the Thames. It was really cool, Doc disappearing for like five hours was less cool and more freaky.”

“Lucky bastard,” says Selvig. “Hopefully he punches Thor’s brother in the face for me.”

Ahsoka snorts out a laugh as she follows behind them, the equipment on her shoulders. That’s likely enough, she supposes, considering that Anakin’s temper is still intact even with the memory loss.

“I shouldn’t be in charge of stuff like this,” Darcy grumbles, as they walk through the corridor leading to the exit. “I don’t get paid enough. I don’t get paid at all, except in pad thai and Chinese leftovers. I demand a raise that includes Starbucks, the gift card’s not gonna last at this rate.”

“Take it up with your boss, not me,” grumbles Selvig.

“When you get a raise, I want Starbucks too,” says Ahsoka. She glances at Selvig, unscrewing one of the bottles and says, “You okay?”

“I had a god in my brain,” says Selvig, darkly, before he drinks the whole thing. “I don’t recommend it.”

(The Son smiles, cold and cruel, at her, before his fingertip reaches out to scrape against her forehead--)

Ahsoka shakes her head, huffs out a breath, and hurries up her pace to keep up with the two of them, as the equipment starts beeping. “So, hey, your stuff’s beeping,” she says. “What’s up with that?”

“It’s happening,” says Selvig, grimly, as they step out onto the wet pavement. He looks up, shakes his head. “And much sooner than I calculated.”

“What, what’s happening?” says Darcy. She looks up, and Ahsoka follows her gaze upward. “Birds? Birds are happening?”

“Something like that,” says Ahsoka, squinting upwards at the flock of starlings. What she wouldn’t give for her Togrutan vision back. “They’re not behaving the way starlings should--the way they’re flying, they’re bound to bump into each other. They’re usually much more organized than that, but something’s got them spooked.”

“How do you know that?” says Selvig.

_I was in a war, I had to learn to read a few signs, in case there were Separatist droids coming._ “I used to babysit for a kid who dragged me out for birdwatching,” she says, distantly.

“Nerd,” says Darcy, fondly, bumping her free shoulder with hers.

“Look,” says Selvig.

Ahsoka looks, and as she watches, the birds fly right into a portal, disappearing into it with a sucking noise.

“Where’d they go?” says Darcy, looking around. “Lots of birds don’t just disappear--”

She starts shrieking a moment later, when the birds fly up _out of the ground_. Ahsoka lets out a curse in Huttese, picked up from Anakin, nearly dropping the equipment on her shoulder. This kind of stuff didn’t happen back in _her_ galaxy, what the hell is wrong with this one?

They all fly past a moment later, as though nothing had happened. Ahsoka opens her eyes, looks at Darcy, who’s swearing at her jacket. “Mother _fucker_ , this thing’s a hundred dollars!” she says. “Bad birds! Stop shitting on people! What the _hell_ was that, anyway--and why are you smiling?”

Selvig dumps the empty bottle back into his bag of medicine, smiling calmly. It’s seriously weird, coming from him, and incredibly dissonant considering that Ahsoka’s only ever seen him streaking on TV before now. “There’s nothing more reassuring,” he says, “than realizing the world is crazier than you are.”

_Try the universe,_ thinks Ahsoka, following after them as they set off back to Anakin’s apartment.

\--

Anakin opens his eyes.

“Anakin?” says Thor, staring at golden irises on black sclera. “Anakin, are you all right?”

“Yeah,” says Anakin, distantly, leaning on the hull like a bored housecat. Like something dangerous. “Malekith’s here.”

\--

“Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Well, I am.” A breath. “This plan of yours is going to get us all killed.”

“Yes, possibly.”

\--

Things do not go according to plan.

The first thing: the Aether is a little more reluctant to leave Anakin than any of them had thought. It fights back every step of the way, wanting to hold on to its host, to the sheer _power_ he holds, but Anakin manages to slam his shields down in time, cutting off its access and letting it go, pushing it out with all his might.

The second thing: the Aether is a petty, spiteful thing, and it has lurked around Anakin Skywalker’s head for long enough to know what he holds dearest. It shows him a vision--pitiful little Midgard, swallowed by the darkness. Ahsoka, screaming as the Aether takes her, Darcy reaching out to him with pleading eyes before she disintegrates, Erik Selvig choking before the Aether cocoons around him and leaves no trace of him behind, Padmé Amidala, wherever she is, falling to her knees and gasping for breath as the Aether floods into her, then Asgard, and Thor’s screams as the darkness covers him and _tears him apart_ , then his galaxy, Luke and Leia dying in front of him--

Thunder booms, and lightning cracks.

Anakin falls to the ground, the vision pounding in his head. He can’t let it happen. He _can’t_ he _won’t_ , everyone here will _burn_ first before he lets it happen--

“Master Skywalker,” hisses Loki, and, oh, yeah, Loki’s covering him. Loki, that pitiful little thing that couldn’t hold a world to save his _life_ \--no, wait. “I suggest you _stay down_.”

The third thing: the Aether is not destroyed.

\--

“Oh,” says Thor, “ _fuck._ ”

Anakin--

\-- _snaps_ , the rage burning through his defenses.

He slips the sword out from his belt, and charges forward towards Malekith and his army with a snarl, the Force--the _Dark Side_ scarlet around him.

(“Oh,” says Loki, “dear.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Did you notice his eyes are yellow?”)

One of them--the monster who’d stabbed Frigga--glances at him, throws something in his direction. Anakin bats it aside with the Force, hears Loki’s faint, distant scream without looking back at him to check. Good riddance to him, anyway.

Some of the Dark Elves turn, and charge towards him. Anakin spins the sword in his hand, ducks the first blow, slams the sword into the soldier’s throat and sees the blood spurt before he turns, snapping another soldier’s neck with a flick of his wrist.

Distantly, he hears Mjolnir spinning, hears it whiz past him. Good on Thor, for going after Malekith.

One of the soldiers charges towards him. Anakin snaps the neck of the closest one, then lifts the creature by the neck, choking him, before he flicks his wrist and sends it crashing into the next one, paying no heed to the sickening crack of bone.

There’s a monster to kill.

\--

Loki spares a glance at Skywalker, whilst fighting his own little squad of Dark Elves.

It’s perhaps the most terrifying thing he’s ever seen, out of that mousy little shit from Midgard. He can’t help a smile, at his brother’s mortal pet letting his vicious rage break through at last, teeth bared as he slaughters his way through the Dark Elves with little mercy.

He hears the ship taking off first, while he’s tussling with the elves, slashing upwards with his dagger and stabbing one of them through its scrawny little neck. He hears Skywalker’s angry snarl later, before he sees the corpses lying at the man’s feet, the Dark Elves still charging at him as he stretches his hand out towards the ship, as if trying to bring it down with sheer will alone.

The crazy thing is, the man almost _succeeds_ , had one of the creatures not gotten in a lucky strike. Or unlucky strike, because as the ship cloaks and disappears, Skywalker-- _Vader_ lets out an animalistic snarl, and cuts down the creature where it stands with a savage strike.

It’s such a wonderfully breathtaking thing to watch, Loki’s almost sorry he’s preoccupied.

\--

Thor spares a glance at Anakin, whilst fighting the monster that nearly killed his mother, and feels naught but horrified.

Anakin’s slammed the stolen Asgardian sword into a Dark Elf’s neck, and is throwing the rest around with some kind of dark magic like rag dolls, eyes blazing like fire, teeth bared in a snarl. He ducks another blow and trips up the soldier, kicking out the elf’s knee with a sickening crack and then snapping his neck with a flick of his wrist, the soldier’s mask suddenly facing an unnatural angle as he collapses.

He spins away, the stolen sword flying back to his hand. It’s stained black now, with the blood of too many Dark Elves, and even Anakin himself is spattered in blood, his eyes a sinister yellow, a different kind of darkness from the Aether pulled over him like a cloak.

There are too many corpses lying at his feet. He kicks at one of them, as if making sure he’s dead, then steps calmly over another one to slice through the next, and the next, and the next.

It’s heartbreaking, to see him like this. Thor wants to go to him, pull him out of it, call him _back_ from the depths of his rage, but the monster slams Thor clear across the plain and into a cliff face.

\--

Mjolnir gets slammed aside, before it can fly into Thor’s hand.

_Well,_ thinks Thor, as the monster steps closer, _this is going to hurt._

\--

Vader’s too caught up in his rage, in murdering the Dark Elves en masse, to see the monster punching the lights out of Thor. Loki huffs out a breath, an idea popping into his head, then picks up one of the weapons of his own fallen.

He marches forward, and pulls on all the magic he can muster. This trick is going to be hard to pull off, but if he can somehow do it, then he will profit so very well off of it.

\--

“Loki! _No!_ ”

\--

The last elf falls. Anakin turns, and sees Thor, across the plain, cradling his brother in his arms. For a moment, he’s surprised to see that Loki’s still alive, despite the grenade. He should fix that, he thinks. He should--

Then he hears it.

“Stay with me,” says Thor, broken, pleading, scared ( _stay with me, Mom, stay_ ). “Hey--stay with me, please, _stay with me_ \--”

Anakin drops the sword.

His feet start to move, stepping over corpses (of his making, _his_ ) and weapons and debris and rocks.

“--sorry,” Loki’s saying. “I’m so--I’m so sorry--”

“Shh,” says Thor, touching his brother’s cheek, smiling sadly ( _I’m so proud of you_ ). “Shh. I’ll--I’ll tell Father what you did here today. I swear to you I will.”

“I didn’t do it for him,” says Loki, his skin turning grey, cracked like the desert rock as Anakin approaches. He breathes out, and his Force presence blows out like a candle in the wind.

Thor _screams_ , the sound ripping through the air, anguished and broken and grieving for the last vestiges of his brother. It rips through the Force as well, the sheer weight of Thor’s grief sending Anakin to his knees, helpless, hopeless.

Well.

That and the corpses just fifty feet away from them.

\--

Thor lays his brother’s corpse down, promising to tell Odin to bring him home to Asgard.

Then he looks at Anakin.

“We should go,” he says, heavily.

Anakin looks up at him, eyes still burning yellow, but there are tears streaming down his face. “I--yeah,” he says, guilty and sad and horrified, “yeah.”

\--

They find a cave.

Anakin sits down on a rock, curls up into a ball, and shakes as Thor sits down across from him, like a leaf in a strong wind, breathing shakily. There’s black blood still spattered on his tunic, and his eyes are still a sickly yellow.

“Anakin?” says Thor, quietly, standing up to step closer to him and crouch down to meet his downcast gaze, unflinching. “Anakin--”

“No,” says Anakin, flinching back before Thor can card his fingers through his hair. “No, Thor, don’t--you _saw_ me out there, your brother was right, your father was right, I’m a danger, I hurt everything I touch I _killed my wife_ \--”

“Anakin,” says Thor, letting his hand drop to Anakin’s. “ _Anakin_ , it’s only me.”

“I know,” says Anakin, tears welling up in his eyes. “I know, that’s why I don’t want you to--I’ve hurt everyone I’ve ever loved, I don’t want you to be one of them. I’ve done such terrible things.” He stops, lets out a soft breath, then pulls his hand reluctantly away from Thor, curls in tighter on himself. “But it’s going to hurt you anyway,” he says. “The Aether. It wants everything _dead_ , it’s just going with Malekith because he’s convenient, they’ll start with Asgard and--and they’ll hurt Ahsoka, and Darcy, and Selvig--”

“Anakin, please,” says Thor, “slow down. It’s all right, it’s only me.”

“They’re going for Midgard first,” says Anakin, “ _why_ would they go to Earth?”

Thor looks away, out to the mouth of the cave. “The Convergence,” he says, quietly. Of course. Every five thousand years, the worlds align, the barriers are weakest, and it would be easy enough to cast a shadow on that time.

Anakin makes a small, choked noise. “None of this would’ve happened if I wasn’t here,” he says. “If I hadn’t been to Asgard, if I hadn’t found the Aether, if I’d just _stayed dead_ like I was _supposed to_ , none of this would’ve happened.”

“Then Malekith would’ve possessed the Aether that much sooner,” says Thor, trying for reassuring and failing. He reaches a hand up to cup Anakin’s cheek, but Anakin breaks away after a moment. “Anakin, you must understand, none of this was your fault.”

“You don’t,” starts Anakin. “You don’t know. You don’t _know_ what I did, or else you wouldn’t be here.” He gives a half-hysterical laugh, the broken sound echoing off the walls of the cave before it dissolves into a sob.

“What did you do, then?” says Thor, letting his hands fall to his lap, helpless. “Why do you think I would not be here, were I to know?”

“You saw me out there,” says Anakin, and Thor nods, sick horror still churning in his gut, at the corpses of the Dark Elves lying at Anakin’s feet, the casual way he regarded them all. “That was the sort of thing I did for twenty years.”

Thor huffs out a breath, understanding. Then he says, “I don’t understand. Can you tell me? Please? Start from the beginning.”

Anakin huffs out a breath, and says, quiet, “I’m--I’m from another universe entirely. A galaxy far, far away from here. And your brother was right, when he said I was a Dark Lord of the Sith, but before that, I was a Knight of the Jedi Order…”

\--

Anakin tells him everything. The Jedi and the Sith. The Queen of Naboo and later Senator Amidala, his secret wife. His mother Shmi, and her death, and how that led to the first massacre that Anakin had enacted, the Tuskens’ men, women and children dying by his hand. The Clone Wars, which Thor makes him explain in a little more detail, and how it had been a game that the Chancellor of the Republic, Palpatine, who Anakin had considered his closest friend once upon a time, had engineered to gain control of the galaxy. Order 66, and how a proud order such as the Jedi fell to the blade of one of their own.

Darth Vader. The Empire. Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa, Anakin’s twins, separated to keep them safe from the monster their father had turned into. Luke on Bespin, Luke on Endor, Luke on the second Death Star, who’d loved his father and trusted him despite everything, who brought him back from the abyss.

Thor listens, and understands.

“So that’s why,” Anakin finishes, “we can’t--I love you, Thor, I really do, but everything I’ve _done_ \--I can’t even begin to make up for it. I’m sorry.” He breathes out, says, miserably, “You’d be safer if you just left me here.”

Thor lets out a long breath. He isn’t ready for that, he knows. Loki had been right, to tell him that. _You will never be ready._

But he musters a small, sad smile, and lets go. “All right,” he says. “If this is where we must part ways as lovers, then we will part ways.”

Anakin bows his head.

“But I am still your friend,” says Thor. “And I will not leave you on this desolate world. We leave together.”

Anakin’s head snaps up, eyes wide. “What?” he says. “Thor, I just told you--”

“What you’ve done in your past does not define you in the present,” says Thor. “I will admit I cannot, and _will not_ , condone much of what you’ve done in your past, and that saving your son does not wipe everything away as though it never happened, but.” He smiles up at him, and clasps his hands over Anakin’s. “When I met you, you had defined yourself already,” he says, “by more than that. You helped evacuate a town, you helped me try to recover Mjolnir despite the risks it presented, and you took in a man that you did not know and who showed you little gratitude for all you did. You may not have been a good man then, but at the least, you are working towards it now.”

“I just massacred a lot of Dark Elves,” says Anakin.

“I said _working towards it_ ,” says Thor. He pauses, then dryly says, “Besides, they were doing their best to kill _us_ , and in combat, typically, the point is to not get killed.”

Anakin stares at him before breaking into a hysterical, but more genuine, laugh again, his shoulders shaking from it. To Thor, it sounds like music.

When he opens his eyes, they’re a clear blue again, if a little red from the tears.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he says. “So what do we do now? We’re stuck here, and as far as I can see, there’s no way off this--”

_I’ll tell you what I want what I really really want so tell me what you want what you really really want--_

“That’s not me,” says Thor, brows creasing.

“I’m gonna make Darcy reconcile particle data for a week,” says Anakin, decisively.

\--

“Um, hello?”

“Dr. Foster! We never went on our date. Quite unfortunate, really, but I am willing to reschedule--”

Anakin squints at his phone, looks up at Thor, and mouths, _I know this woman._

_Who is she?_ Thor mouths back.

_Kaminoan cloner,_ Anakin answers. Burtoni’s still going, talking about how of course she has quite a busy schedule, and how as an eminent man of science himself, surely he can understand.

“But I must say I would love the opportunity to know you better, Dr. Foster,” Burtoni continues, in that silky voice of hers. “Perhaps we can even work out a lucrative partnership--”

“I waited for you for twenty minutes,” says Anakin. “You didn’t show up. We had a time that we agreed upon, and you didn’t show up at all.”

“Well. Yes.”

“We had,” Anakin clarifies, “a deal. I held up my end, by which I mean, I came to the restaurant that _you_ picked, at the time that _you_ set, and you didn’t show. So how can we be partners if I can’t trust you to hold up your end of the deal?”

“Dr. Foster, you cannot simply expect me to drop everything for you,” says Burtoni.

Anakin lets out a long breath. “Ma’am, I did not ask you to drop everything for me. In fact, if you were going to cancel, you could’ve called me and said you weren’t coming, and I would have understood.” He pauses, then adds, “Also, Burtoni, I just realized, I don’t want to date a piece of shit who put together a whole army of slaves for a goddamn Sith Lord.”

He cuts off the call, then pauses and stares at the number of black dots, and says, “Holy shit, I have a _signal_.” He looks around, scrambles to his feet, and says, “Oh my god, how did I get service all the way out here?”

“You dated her?” says Thor, as Anakin starts dialing another number.

“Not really, she stood me up and then I left because Ahsoka told me I had science to do,” says Anakin, absently. “Hey! It’s working! The phone’s ringing!”

Thor grins at him, bright and dazzling, like a star. Anakin smiles back, then turns away and says, “Darcy, it’s me.”

“Doc!” Darcy says over the phone. “Holy shit! I have been trying to call you for _days_. Where are you?”

“It’s a very, very long story,” says Anakin, feeling the weight of twenty years’ worth of murder crash back down on his shoulders. If he tells Darcy and Selvig who he is, what he’s done, they’ll leave. They’ll never look back. They’ll think him a monster, and he would deserve that.

But they’re his friends. Some small part of him wants them to stay his friends, wants to let them think of him as John Foster, as a slightly eccentric but ultimately harmless astrophysicist, wants selfishly to forget Anakin Skywalker and go back to arguing with Darcy over particle data.

But they would find out, and leave anyway. But Anakin cannot lie to them, and tell himself that it’s for their own good, when being his friend means being exposed to the danger he poses. Selvig’s already been in danger, already had Loki taking over his will and his life for a time, and Darcy doesn’t have any ability that could protect her, just a taser and a can of mace.

He’ll tell them, he decides. After the Convergence, after Malekith’s threat has passed, he’ll tell them who he is, and he’ll let them walk away.

He can take the cold air of the apartment, without them around.

But for now, he smiles and says, “You guys okay there? Hopefully you haven’t discovered another anomaly while I was out.”

“We have discovered lots of them,” says Darcy.

“And you didn’t tell me? Rude.”

“I have been trying to call you to tell you! Is it my fault you never check your messages? God,” Darcy huffs indignantly. “Also, Erik was streaking on TV.”

“Erik what,” says Anakin, briefly thrown for a loop. He puts Darcy on speakerphone and holds his phone up, marveling at how he’s getting service all the way out here. “And keep talking! Hey, Thor, say hi.”

“Ooh, Thor’s there?” says Darcy. “Hey, man! How’s space?”

“Space is a little bit threatened right now,” says Thor.

“Well, shit,” says Darcy. “Doc, there’s a cute little place in Greenwich, really tiny, has like the best coffee ever. You should totally try it out sometime.”

“I’ll take it under consideration,” Anakin promises, walking deeper into the cave, Thor following behind him. He stubs his toe on a _Twilight_ book and lets out a curse.

“Dude, where’d you and Ashley pick that up?” says Darcy.

“Pick what up?” Anakin asks.

“The weird swearing,” Darcy says. “What’s a _feer-feck_?”

“Huh,” says Anakin. “Something you’re too young to know anything about.” He crouches down and picks up the car keys, stuffs it into his pocket.

“I’m _twenty-three_ , I can handle it,” Darcy insists. “Also, did you drop something?”

“No, I found something,” says Anakin.

“Why are there so many shoes here?” says Thor. “And--a ball.”

“Our balls are boring,” says Anakin, absently.

Darcy starts giggling on the other end of the line, and says, “Your _balls_ , heh.”

“Mind out of the gutter, Darce,” says Anakin, pulling his hair tie out of his hair and tossing it at the cave wall. It disappears with a sucking noise. “Thor, come on, this way.”

“One day you shall have to tell me how you keep your hair so soft,” says Thor.

“There was a time I didn’t have any,” says Anakin, dryly, before he and Thor step through.

\--

“So.”

“Not one word about Burtoni.”

“I was not going to say anything!”

“You were saying _something_.”

\--

Ahsoka’s checking over Selvig’s gravimetric data when she looks in the Force and sees Anakin’s Force presence burst back into life again, like a star going supernova.

It’d be the most beautiful thing she’s ever felt, were it not for Anakin’s tentative thought just a few minutes later-- _Ahsoka?_

She nearly spews her coffee out on Darcy and over the living room table, but manages to swallow it in time.

“Hey, what’s up?” says Darcy, brow furrowing. “Ashley?”

“I gotta go,” says Ahsoka, hurriedly, “just for a few minutes. I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” says Darcy, skeptical. “Hey, when you come back, pick up a spare pair of pants? Erik just stripped his off.”

“It makes me think better!” Selvig hollers from the kitchen.

“That doesn’t make sense!” Darcy yells back.

Ahsoka steps out of the apartment, hurries down a flight of stairs and steps out into the street, leans against a wall. _I’m here,_ she sends.

_It’s you,_ Anakin’s next thought comes, mixed with sheer relief. _It’s really you, Snips._

Something hot stings the corners of her eyes. Ahsoka reaches up a hand to wipe it away, comes away with her sleeve wet with tears. Anakin, it’s _Anakin_ , she has missed him _so much_. How--

_What happened?_ she sends. _You remember now, how did that happen? Also, your friend Dr. Selvig needs pants._

_Please tell me he’s not naked in my apartment, I don’t want to move out,_ Anakin replies, and Ahsoka chuckles despite herself. _Long story short, I had an ancient force of darkness and destruction trying to eat me from the inside out. I think the stress of keeping it from killing me, and everything else, helped bring everything back._ There’s a moment’s hesitation, then she blinks at the memory he dumps in her head--herself, still a Togrutan, calling out to him on Malachor.

( _I won’t leave you! Not this time._

He looks up at her, snarls, _Then you will die,_ and crushes Anakin Skywalker’s love for this girl who left him who _abandoned him_ \--)

_I’m sorry,_ is Anakin’s thought. _I tried to kill you. I blamed you for leaving. I wiped out the whole order and I thought it justice. I’m--so sorry, Ahsoka. I know better now._

She breathes out. _Where are you, anyway?_

_Picking up spare pants for Selvig,_ Anakin answers. _And we’re trying to find spare clothes for me. Um. I snapped and fell. Again._

_What are you on about?_ she asks.

He sends her a memory.

_Oh, shit,_ Ahsoka sends, feeling her own anger rise in her chest. Damn it, Skyguy, for doing this to her again. _What the fuck, Anakin? Stop making a habit of massacring people._

_Okay,_ Anakin sends back. _You could go. If you want._

_I’m staying here,_ Ahsoka tells him, and she feels the shock first, uncomprehending, then the heavy guilt, bitter on her tongue. She breathes out, bundles the bleed-over of Anakin’s emotions and her own anger up, and gives it to the Force. _I told you I wouldn’t leave you again. I am angry that you went and fell again, we’re going to talk about that in person, but you’re here and you regret it, so I’d call that a good start._

_Okay,_ is Anakin’s response. Then he adds, _We might’ve gotten chased out of the store because I apparently look like a hobo who fell in an oil tanker. Please don’t freak out when you see me. Or the rental._

Ahsoka sighs, massaging her temples. Right about now she’d be tapping on one of her montrals, but she doesn’t have montrals, just braids. _I won’t,_ she promises.

\--

“What in the fuck, Skyguy,” says Ahsoka, when Anakin steps out of the rental. “That’s--That doesn’t look like blood. Also _where are the windows_.”

“Feels more like oil, yeah,” says Anakin, tugging on his medical bracelet. “Um. Hey, Snips.”

Ahsoka stares at him, then down at his clothes, then at Thor, shutting the passenger door. “So what happened?” she asks.

“We tried to have the ancient force of destruction and darkness destroyed while the leader of the Dark Elves was pulling it from Anakin,” says Thor. “Oh, and the Dark Elves want eternal darkness over the whole universe. They’re very keen on that.”

“Oh,” says Ahsoka, faintly. “We definitely need to stop them.”

“We weren’t able to,” says Anakin. “The Aether--that’s the ancient force of destruction and darkness--is going to Earth now, and we need to figure out where and when Malekith--he’s the leader of the Dark Elves--is going to unleash it.” He lets out a breath, hides his shaking hands in the folds of his bloodstained tunic. “I snapped and fell,” he says.

“What Anakin fails to mention,” says Thor, “was that the Aether showed him a vision before it left him, and it was of Midgard, Asgard, the entire universe dying. And it has been eating at him for days now, he had something of an adverse reaction.” He pauses, then adds, “Also, the Dark Elves were trying their best to kill us.”

“Okay, that makes a little bit more sense,” says Ahsoka. “Doesn’t make a massacre justified, but I can see where Anakin’s coming from.” She looks at him, her blue eyes narrowed, and says, “You don’t feel dark.”

“Thank Thor for that,” says Anakin, jerking a thumb to Thor. “Or. Loki, I guess, considering it was him dying that snapped me out of it.” He lets his hand drop again, tugs nervously at his medical bracelet, and looks away from Ahsoka. “I’m not dark anymore. I can’t promise I won’t be again. It, and the risk it carries, doesn’t go away, Snips, it’s always going to be there.” He breathes out, says, “You’d be safer away from me.”

There’s a moment’s pause.

Then Ahsoka steps forward, cups Anakin’s cheek and takes his hand. “Skyguy,” she says, “I promised I wouldn’t leave you, and I won’t.” She pulls him in, wraps her arms around him, and says, voice raw, “I _missed_ you.”

Anakin freezes, for a moment, breath hitching in his throat. Then, slowly, hesitantly, he wraps his arms around her as well, and holds her close, warm and solid and alive.

Something stings his eyes, rolls down his cheeks. It takes him a second to realize, _oh_ \--he’s crying, shaking and trembling and trying to breathe, knees buckling underneath him, babbling in her ears, _I’m sorry about Malachor I’m sorry I hurt you I missed you so much I’m so sorry Ahsoka I’m so proud of you_ \--

“I think it’s raining,” says Ahsoka.

Anakin breaks away, then looks around, at the rain pouring around them in a perfect circle, people hurrying past them, and Thor idly tapping his fingers on the car roof. “Thor,” he says, at last, handing his phone off to Ahsoka, “I think it’s a good idea to let it rain on me a little.”

Ahsoka steps back, still not being rained on.

“All right,” says Thor, amiably, and two seconds later a torrent rushes down on Anakin, as though all the rain Thor’s been keeping off him has just been collecting on top of him, like a basin.

Anakin wrings out his hair and his somewhat-cleaner tunic, looks back at Ahsoka, still dry and snickering. “Not one word, Snips,” he says.

“I didn’t say anything,” says Ahsoka, with a grin. “Did I say anything? Thor?”

“She didn’t say anything,” says Thor.

Anakin heaves a sigh, and says, “Let’s go inside.”

\--

“Doc!” yells Darcy, racing forward to hug John first. “Doc, holy shit--”

“I’m fine, Darcy, I’m fine,” says John, gently untangling himself from Darcy’s octopus grip. Which is just unfair, considering she never gets to escape _his_ octopus grip.

“Dude, you look like a drowned rat,” she says, stepping back to really take him in. “And what’s with the outfit? You look like you stepped right out of a Ren Faire and then into the rain.”

“Hah,” says John, looking jumpier than usual, tugging restlessly on his medical bracelet. “Uh.”

“We’ve acquired pants,” says Thor, holding up a completely dry paper bag and hanging Mjolnir on the coat rack. “Where is Erik?”

“Here!” calls Selvig, emerging from the kitchen with wild eyes and, good god, _no pants_. Darcy turns away, in a bid to spare herself the sight, and claps her hand over Ashley’s eyes as well, but John doesn’t get away in time and makes a small, choked noise in the back of his throat.

Poor guy. She’s pretty sure he’s just been scarred for life.

“John!” Selvig cries, charging forward and sweeping John up in a hug. Kinda impressive, considering John’s easily much taller than he is. “Thank god, you’re alive!”

“Hi, Erik,” says John, much less enthusiastic as he pats Selvig on the back. He looks like a cornered, drowned rat, terrified out of his wits and barely holding it together. Darcy steps a little bit closer, keeping her eyes fixed on Selvig’s face and not on his underpants-wearing lower half, and gently nudges John’s side, _I’m here_. “Please wear pants.”

“I think better without them,” says Selvig, loftily, as he steps away. Then he steps forward to hug Thor.

“Thor, it is so _good_ to see you--”

“He’s--huggier,” says John, faintly.

“I am pleased to see you as well, Erik!” Thor laughs, obviously less put off by Erik’s lack of pants than all the rest of them. Darcy’s pretty sure it’s an Asgardian thing, save for Loki, they’re cool with everything.

“So much huggier,” says Darcy.

John breathes out, and Darcy glances at him, catches sight of him tugging on his bracelet again, then winding a lock of his hair around a metal finger and tugging before letting it go. She sees him looking back at Ashley, who’s trying to hide behind him despite being two inches taller than him, as if--

\--as if he _knows_ her, suddenly, as if he’s hurt her before and feels guilty about it.

Darcy squints at him, then looks away to Thor and Selvig.

“Loki’s dead,” says Thor, gravely, his smile gone.

“Oh, thank _god_ ,” says Selvig.

Darcy lets her face drop into her hands. Behind John, Ashley says, “Maybe celebrate later?”

“Oh,” says Selvig, and Darcy looks up just in time to see him nodding to Thor. “I’m--sorry for your loss.”

John inhales, exhales, then steps forward and says, “I remembered who I was.”

“That’s great!” Darcy cheers, slapping his shoulder with pride. John flinches back, seems to shrink in on himself, and guilt stabs through Darcy’s gut. “Um,” she says, “unless it wasn’t great.”

“That’s good,” says Selvig, happily.

“Hah,” says John, his smile so brittle Darcy’s pretty sure it’ll fall off his face any second. “Yeah. Uh. I’ll tell you all everything later, but right now the short version is: I know how to make stuff float, fight, and make battle plans.” He straightens up, and says, “And right now, the whole universe is in danger of being swallowed up by something the likes of which none of us has ever seen. And we’re the only ones who can stop it.”

“Oh,” says Darcy, faintly. She looks around at all of them--Selvig with no pants, John’s jittery and shaky hands, Ashley’s mysteriously meaningful glances towards John, and Thor, the literal superhero. “Well, crap.”

\--

Thor explains, first.

“The Aether is a powerful and nigh-indestructible force of death and darkness,” he says, as the five of them crowd around John’s kitchen table, all the dishes and little projects packed away to make room for a map of London. “Malekith intends to use this force to engulf the whole universe in eternal darkness.”

“Eternal darkness is bad,” says Darcy. “Got it.”

“Very bad,” John mutters beside her, and she wants so badly to ask him what he’s remembered, that he sounds so haunted and sad. “They suit each other, the Aether really doesn’t like anything that isn’t darkness. Which is pretty much the whole universe, so.”

“We’ve figured out,” says Thor, “that he intends to use the Convergence--just over a day from now, as he’ll have to get from Svartalfheim to Midgard the old-fashioned way--to facilitate this destruction.” He grabs hold of two mugs, one in each hand, and says, slowly aligning one on top of the other, “When all the Nine Realms are aligned with each other, the barriers between them will grow weak enough to allow easy access for the Aether.”

“And the more worlds die, the more effect the Aether has,” says Ashley.

“Until it’s universal,” says Selvig, in cold realization.

“Please don’t smash the mugs, we only have like six,” says Darcy.

“But Malekith has to time it perfectly,” says John, taking the mug from Thor’s hand and sipping coffee. “And we have to distract him from getting it perfectly. Which is easier said than done--his forces might be heavily depleted, but that just means they’ll fight like hell to stop _us_ when they figure out what we’re up to.”

“Dr. Selvig’s gravimetric spikes are going to be the key to us winning this,” says Ashley, tapping one of them with her finger. “We put them in strategic locations, we can actually control the gravitational anomalies and spin the laws of physics taking a day off to our advantage.”

“First of all,” says Selvig, wearing pants now, “they were made to _detect_ gravitational anomalies, not _cause_ them.”

“Which I can fix,” says John.

“Second of all,” says Darcy, “where’re we gonna pull off this last stand?”

There’s a moment’s silence, then John says, “Uh. I’m still working on that.”

“We did not think that through,” says Ashley. “You have got to work on cross-referencing your data and Dr. Selvig’s--”

“Wait, wait, I think I know,” says Selvig, pushing forward and picking up a marker pen and a ruler. “All the great constructions, the Mayans, the Chinese, the Egyptians, they were _there_ for the Convergence when it first came around. They made use of its gravitational effects--and they left us a map.”

“Is it the kind of map I can Google?” says Darcy, hopefully.

“No,” says Selvig bluntly, which, rude of him to dash her hopes like that. “But--look here.” He draws lines across the maps, says, “Snowden, Stonehenge, the Great Orme--they’re all coordinates taking us _here._ ” He circles the point where they all intersect.

John says, “Fuck me, it’s in Greenwich.”

“It makes sense,” says Ashley, stroking her chin. “Of all the places there’s been an anomaly, Greenwich is the densest, in terms of reporting them.”

“Reports of anomalies?” says Darcy. “Have you been hacking stuff?”

“No, I--have a network,” says Ashley, evasively. “Anyway.”

“Okay, so we hammer the spikes in,” says Darcy. “Let’s do it now.”

“Not yet,” says John. “Right now, they’re only configured to detect anomalies. I’ve got ideas on reconfiguring them to cause anomalies, but I need to run tests first.” He lets out a long breath, pinches the bridge of his nose, and says, “It’s gonna be a long day.”

“I’ll get the cookies,” says Darcy. “And the coffee.”

“I’m a far sturdier volunteer than most,” says Thor. “I can help.”

“I’ll stake out the best places to plant a spike,” says Ashley.

“I’ll buy some pants,” says Selvig, heaving a sigh. “What was that about making stuff float, by the way, John? I’ve got an idea.”

\--

(The first time Anakin ever meets Galen Erso on Earth, the man’s politely arguing with Dr. Richards over how to better expand a theoretical energy shield, to hold up against an attack from such would-be invaders as the Chitauri. He doesn’t think much of Erso at the time--then again, he’d only thought of the man as Dr. Ehren, and himself as John Foster.

The second time, it’s six months after the Convergence, and Anakin’s finished up a guest lecture in goddamn fucking _Manila_. He can’t believe it. Two years ago he’d been an outcast living out of a van in New Mexico, and now there are so many schools asking him to come hold a lecture that his head is spinning keeping them all straight.

That, and the jet lag.

He’s yawning on his way out of the auditorium, rubbing at his eyes with his flesh fingers, when someone bumps into him, papers scattering everywhere, and says, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t--”

“Sorry,” says Anakin, blinking blearily, and bending down to pick up the man’s papers. “Jet lag, you know how it--is…”

He looks up.

“Oh,” says Anakin.

“Master Skywalker,” says Galen Erso as he stands up with Anakin’s lecture notes and papers, polite face masking the fury Anakin can feel rolling off him in the Force.

“Doctor,” Anakin corrects. “And you’re Dr. Erso.”

“Astute observation,” Erso returns, as Anakin pushes himself up to his feet and squashes down on the instinctive reaction to run. “What are you doing here in the Ateneo?”

“Guest lecture,” says Anakin, waving his metal hand at the little banner set up just outside the auditorium. “I’m done with the lecture.”

“You’re--” Erso starts, eyes darting between Anakin and the banner. “Oh. You’re Dr. Foster.”

“Yeah,” says Anakin, feeling deeply uncomfortable. “So how’s the hypothetical clean energy stuff going?” Hypothetical clean energy stuff, _ha_.

“Stark Industries is swallowing up the market,” says Erso, “but then, I suppose you know that already, considering your association with Stark’s friend.”

“I’m not sure Thor can be considered Stark’s friend, per se,” Anakin says. “Anyway, I believe this is yours?”

“And this is yours,” says Erso, and Anakin gratefully plucks his notes from Erso’s hands, shoves Erso’s papers at him. “I did want to catch your lecture, but I had a conflict with a previous appointment I needed to keep.”

“Well,” says Anakin, thinking fast as his stomach growls, “I, uh, I haven’t had lunch.”

“Oh,” says Erso. “All right then. There’s a relatively cheap restaurant within walking distance.”

Which is how Anakin finds himself munching on fried chicken in a fast food restaurant just outside of the school. As meetings go, this one’s not terribly awkward, though Erso’s watching him with wary eyes, as if not entirely certain of trusting him. Sensible guy.

“So,” says Erso, “an Einstein-Rosenberg bridge?”

“Yeah,” says Anakin, after swallowing. “Or something like it? I got to talk to the operator on how it worked while putting the paper together, I had Darcy take videos--what they do is that they have this device that can create a temporary traversable wormhole in space, from their world to another.” He sips at his Coke, sifts through his papers and pulls out Thor’s drawing, from so long ago. “It’s a fairly limited number, granted, they only have access to nine locations and you have to go through Asgard if you want to get to Vanaheim from Earth, but they have a wide range within those nine locations.”

“This is fascinating stuff,” says Erso. “But what about what happened in London?”

“Everyone wants to talk about what happened in London,” Anakin huffs. “But okay--there’s an event every five thousand years or so where ‘the barriers between those nine worlds weaken’, or I guess where we get easier access to these other worlds because of the sudden spike of occurrences of unstable wormholes, and the laws of physics go ballistic. Someone tried to invade in that time, and, uh. Well.” He shrugs. “They’re still repairing Greenwich University.”

“So I’ve heard,” says Erso, leaning forward, and that’s when Anakin knows--he’s got him hooked, despite Erso’s own personal misgivings.

He smiles, and says, “Something Dr. Selvig and I started doing during that time was working on his gravimetric spikes…”)

\--

“Where’d Thor go?” says Darcy, stepping out onto the lawn to find John staring at the spike.

“I have no idea,” says John, before he twists a knob. Thor comes back with a sucking noise, his hammer in mid-swing, and Darcy ducks with a yelp before the big hammer can take anything off her.

“Darcy!” says Thor, crouching. “I apologize, I had been sent to Jotunheim and encountered a foul beast that wished to eat me.” He holds out his hand, like a gallant knight, and helps her up, also like a gallant knight. She practically swoons.

Then she looks at John, who’s smiling sadly at Thor, and steps away. “That’s fine, big guy,” she says. “Welcome back to Earth.”

“He was gone for like thirty seconds,” says John, dryly. “How’d you get into trouble in half a minute?”

“I have a gift,” is Thor’s explanation. “Now, I should go speak with Ashley. She asked me to assist her with a few inquiries she wished to make.”

“She’s staking out Greenwich University’s plaza right now,” says Darcy, “you know, big green park with the--”

“I know,” says Thor, spinning his hammer before flying off, the wind he’s kicked up strong enough to nearly knock the spike over from where it’s hammered.

John sighs, says, “Well, that’s the last of them,” and pulls the spike out of the ground.

“You’re acting kinda weird today,” says Darcy.

“Hm?”

“I thought you’d be more excited about this,” she says. “Easy access between worlds! That’s your thing, right? That’s like, your whole life’s work right there.” She gestures wildly at the spot where Thor flew off, and says, “You went to Asgard! You should be totally incomprehensible about it!”

“Mm,” says John, casually making the gravimetric spike float and follow him along inside. “Well. It’s been a stressful few days.”

“You’re _making things float_ ,” says Darcy. “Doc, come on, I’m in political science and I know this is exciting!”

“Not really in the mood,” says John, evasively. “If we fail, the whole universe gets swallowed up by the Aether. You can see why I’m not too happy about that.”

“Yeah, but, like,” says Darcy, waving a frantic hand at the floating gravimetric spike as she follows John back indoors, “you once charged into a storm because you got seriously high readings off of it. What happened?”

John lets out a long breath, plucks the spike out of the air and tucks it under his arm. “I remembered I wasn’t a very good person, Darce,” he says. “I’ll tell you all the details when we’re done saving the world, but--long story short, I’m not a good person.”

“I’m not a good person either,” says Darcy. “I think I’m maybe more a ‘could go either way’ person. I like puppies and I would protect them with my life, but I would totally murder all my Sims in gruesome ways and post it on YouTube.”

“I’m a lot worse than that,” says John, with a strained smile.

“Doc,” says Darcy. “Doc, you don’t have to hold it off till this Dark Elf stuff’s blown over. You can just say it right now. You know that. Right?” She shrugs, gives him a winning smile. “I mean, it can’t be that bad. You’re not, like, a supervillain.”

John stops at the door to his apartment, turns to her with a small, sad smile. “Darce,” he says, “if I told you now, I don’t think you’d want to work with me anymore.” He hesitates, then places his hand on the doorknob and says, “And right now, we have to work together.”

“I’m kinda mad at you _now_ ,” says Darcy, following him inside when the door opens.

“That, I can take,” says John, cryptically, and he’s off to talk to Selvig in the kitchen before Darcy can ask him what he means, leaving her standing alone with her worry and her fears in the middle of the living room.

“I have _such_ a bad feeling about this,” she mutters.

\--

“What was he like, when you knew him?”

Ashley--Ahsoka doesn’t stop, walking up to a merchant and buying some food for herself and for Thor. “Want a scotch egg? They’re pretty delicious.”

Thor nods, then takes the scotch egg she’s handing off to him, biting down as he looks around. “This is quite good,” he says after swallowing. “I’ve not tasted anything like this before, save for on Nidavellir.”

“Nida-what now?” says Ahsoka, squinting at him. She’s only barely shorter than he is, her blue and white hair piled into a braided bun on top of her head.

“Nidavellir,” says Thor. “Home of the dwarves. They live underground, hardly any light there, but they’re a jovial people nonetheless. They make something like this, only.” He makes a face, and says, “They’re fond of eating rodents.”

“Oh, yeah, I can see why,” says Ahsoka, in a tone that implies she doesn’t exactly understand it. Right, thinks Thor, she comes from another universe, and she’s not originally human. Her culture perhaps shared more than a few traits with the dwarves. “Usually you can find these in bars--that’s where Darcy found me, bartending.” She bites into her scotch egg, sighs. “I was getting paid a lot more then.”

“So why take this job?” Thor asks.

Ahsoka looks up. “You know,” she says, “when I first met Anakin, I’d already heard a lot about him. He was the Chosen One, one of the youngest Jedi generals, probably _the_ youngest knight in a long, long time. And Master Yoda chose _me_ to be his padawan.”

“Who?” says Thor.

“Little green guy,” says Ahsoka, leading Thor away from the stall and to a bench, where she sits down. “Very old. I used to think very wise. I’m not too sure _now_ , I think maybe near the end of the Clone Wars he was just trying to hold everything together, and it took a toll on him.” She breathes out, looks down at her scotch egg. “But he chose me to be Anakin’s padawan. Of all people, right? Before the war I would’ve aged out and become part of the Corps, maybe gone into AgriCorps, but we were stretched pretty thin even at the start of it all.”

He sits down next to her. “How old were you then?” he asks.

“Fourteen,” says Ahsoka.

Fourteen, and fighting a war. Thor feels his stomach churn, uneasily.

Ahsoka’s eyes slide to him, and she smiles sadly. “Yeah, I know,” she says. “In retrospect, not a good idea. But I was a kid, I thought it’d be great.” She looks away, resting her elbows on her knees, and says, “When I first met Anakin, he wanted to send me back to Coruscant. We were in the middle of an active warzone, I wanted to help, and I was _his_ padawan. You can imagine how either of us felt about it--he thought I’d just slow them down, I thought he was being unfair and also a jerk.”

“Valid points from both of you,” says Thor.

“Yeah,” says Ahsoka. “We didn’t get off on the right foot then, but we started over a little while later. After we’d been through a battle.”

“Bonds forged in battle are oft the strongest,” says Thor. “I am not surprised your bond, tempered in such fire, came out so strong even after that start.”

“You do a better job at being flattering than Anakin does,” says Ahsoka, dryly. “Or. Did.” She eats the rest of her scotch egg, swallows, licks the grease off her fingers. “As time went on, I saw that he was brave, and strong, and his temper was fierce even then, but more than that--he could be gentle. He could be warm, and kind, and incredibly loyal, especially to his friends. He liked working with machines, especially Artoo--his astromech. Or at least when I met him Artoo was his astromech already. I never understood that part.”

“One day you must tell me more of your galaxy,” says Thor. “I’m not certain what an astromech is.”

“They’re droids that help starfighter pilots in the air,” says Ahsoka. “They plot courses, train weapons, they can even take over for the pilot when they’ve been incapacitated in some way. Most pilots have a fairly deep bond with their astromech, but Anakin…” She huffs out a breath. “Artoo was practically Anakin’s best friend. Picked up on some of his swearing too.”

“Ah, yes,” says Thor, with a little grin. “Loki had a machine like that once. I taught it to swear.” He looks down at his hands, then says, more seriously, “So what happened?”

“Three years into the war, I was framed for a bombing at the Jedi Temple that killed Jedi, clones, and just plain workers alike,” says Ahsoka, fiddling with her fingers. “Anakin believed in me. But the Jedi Order didn’t, and even when I was exonerated I--”

She stops.

“Go on,” says Thor.

“The war was breaking the Jedi,” she says, at last. “Not just in terms of the losses, and there were a lot of them, but it was breaking the Jedi’s ideals, values, morals. We were supposed to help the galaxy, that was our mandate, but how could we if we couldn’t even begin to help one of our own? If we had to stand by, instead?”

“So they stood by,” says Thor.

“Yeah,” says Ahsoka, not looking up from her hands. “It’s--really a lot more complicated than that, but. I left.” She breathes out, raises her head and says, “And Anakin stayed. We met up, sometimes, but I forged my own path, found my own way.” She looks at Thor and says, “The last time I saw him as Anakin Skywalker, he was on his way to rescuing the Chancellor of the Republic, who’d been kidnapped by the Separatists.”

“He told me of that,” says Thor. “He also said that the Chancellor was also the mastermind of the whole war.”

“He was,” says Ahsoka, curtly. “After that--I heard about a new Sith Lord, named Darth Vader. I didn’t make the connection until I ran into him personally, on Lothal, helping out a few friends of mine.” She curls up into a small ball, her chin touching her knees, tears welling in her eyes, and says, “I. I thought he was dead. It would’ve been a lot better.”

Thor scoots closer, puts an arm around her shoulders. To his surprise, she leans in closer, and he ends up holding her close, hearing her sniffle against his shoulder. They look a sight, he’s certain: a man in armor, holding a woman crying against him. “I’m sorry,” he says, knowing his apology to be a paltry, pale thing.

She breaks away after a moment, wiping at her eyes. “Sorry,” she says. “I--I did miss him. And I looked for answers, tried to figure out who he was, tried not to even think about why Anakin would fall. I denied it to myself for a long while, but--at some point I started to at least acknowledge it. That Vader was Anakin. That the same man who committed all those crimes was the same man who fought like hell to save his astromech, the same man who I used to call one of my closest friends.”

She huffs out a breath, tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear again. “We met again on Malachor. Truth be told I didn’t even expect him to be there, I’d just guided a few friends of mine there so they could find the answers they sought.” She sighs. “We fought. He tried to get to my friends, because he wanted the same thing they wanted--this artifact that could answer any question you asked of it. I took offense.”

Thor lets out a breath, thinks of Loki, and says, “Go on.”

“I thought he couldn’t have been my friend, my master, my teacher,” she says. “He’d tried to kill this boy who was no older than, what, fifteen? And _his_ teacher too. Surely Vader was too vile to have been Anakin.”

Anakin, who’d slaughtered a squadron of Dark Elves, armed with a sword and a power Thor barely understood then, still does not understand now, though he seeks to.

“I managed to stun him and break his mask,” says Ahsoka. “And--there was Anakin. For a second, I swear, he was _there_.”

_Sentiment,_ Loki snarls in Thor’s head, eyes wild with anger at slights real and imagined.

“I thought the same of my brother,” says Thor. “He was--a good man, once. He saved my life, and the lives of our fellows, in battle, more than once, with his tricks.”

Ahsoka looks up at him, and says, “What was he like? Loki, I mean. Before--well, New York.”

“Warm,” says Thor. “We called him silver-tongued, for his quick wit and quicker thinking. He was always good at deception, but I never doubted his dedication to Asgard, to our father and mother, to me.” He breathes out, thinks of the days before New Mexico, and says, “He was always ambitious, even ruthless. Qualities, I think, that he shares with Father, even now, though I don’t think either of them will admit to it.”

“From what Anakin’s told me about your dad,” says Ahsoka, dryly, “I’m not surprised. They both sound like grade-A dicks.” She pauses, then adds, “Sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” says Thor. “My father treated him harshly, and Loki needled him all the way to Svartalfheim.” He breathes out, and says, “But he was always warm. Jovial, even teasing. I don’t--I don’t know what happened, why he turned. I only know that one day we were laughing together, then just a few days later, he lied to me about Father’s death, about Mother’s anger.”

Ahsoka nudges his side, and says, “Go on.”

Thor breathes out. “I tried to talk to him,” he says. “More than once. I tried to get him to come home, because I _missed_ him, I mourned for him, we all did.” He pauses. _Sentiment._ “Or I missed the brother I had known. But after New York--I had to accept that my brother was gone.”

Ahsoka’s quiet, clearly drawing all the parallels that Thor’s already drawn. “Anakin mentioned him dying,” she says. “What happened?”

“He saved my life again,” says Thor. “After all he’d done, after everything, he saved my life, even at the cost of his own.” He reaches up, wipes away a tear, says, “And there was my brother. For a second, I swear, he was _there._ ”

Ahsoka takes him by the hand, tugs him in close, and wraps her arms around him once more. Thor sniffles into her shoulder, like a boy missing his mother, missing his brother, and for once, does not care who sees.

\--

They start setting up the next day, at the university campus.

“You’ve tested them all out?” asks Selvig, as he and Anakin walk hurriedly through the library, Anakin’s bright yellow rainboots squeaking on the floor. _Shhhh,_ someone whispers, annoyed by the sound.

“Yeah, Thor went to like five different realms in the space of three hours,” says Anakin. Darcy had been right, he thinks, this _is_ exciting, even with the threat of possible death and destruction hanging over his head. “After this, maybe I’ll write a paper.”

He pauses.

Then he spins around on his heel and shouts, “Okay, all of you, get out of here _right now_ , there’s an alien invasion imminent and nobody wants a New York Incident!”

\--

“My god, Skyguy,” says Ashley, “did you have to tape _everything_ together?”

“Someday, you and Doc are gonna have to tell me how you guys met,” says Darcy, picking up a spike. “Okay, so we’re gonna have to hammer these in all around the site, and then John and Erik will activate them from the tower. And we gotta get out once we’re done ‘cause if not we’re gonna be freezing our asses off. Or burning our asses off. Or just plain lost.”

“Got it,” says Ashley.

“Also, by the way,” says Darcy, “once we’re done, we should totally go for coffee. When the world’s not destroyed.”

Ashley blinks at her, and for a second Darcy wants to retract, because _holy shit_ , that was just terrible. The world is probably going to be swallowed by eternal night and she’s asking her out for _coffee_.

Then Ashley says, “Well. I wouldn’t say no to a cup or two.”

Darcy snickers, then catches a glimpse of two saber hilts, hanging from Ashley’s belt. “What are those?” she asks.

“Precautions,” says Ashley.

\--

Anakin peers down at the duo from the tower, having been dragged away from the library before he could really start yelling. He hopes the students took his warnings seriously. “Are they flirting?” he says. He’s pretty sure they’re flirting. He’s seen Ahsoka flirt, and this is _exactly like that_. Oh, god, if this turns out like Lux, he’s not sure who he’s going to eviscerate. Maybe himself for introducing them.

“They’re flirting,” says Selvig.

“I just broke up with my boyfriend,” Anakin huffs. “Have a little decency, you two.”

Selvig turns to stare at him. “You broke up with _Thor_?”

\--

The ship descends.

\--

“Quick, quick!” yells Ahsoka, grabbing hold of Darcy and the spike, the two of them desperately running for their lives like everyone else around them from the giant ship. “Okay, we can’t hammer there, but here, I found a good alternative yesterday--”

“Take me there!” Darcy shrieks. “I don’t wanna _die_ for _six college credits_!”

Ahsoka takes her there, glancing upward at the ship, and thinking, _I’ve seen way bigger than you._

\--

“That’s tiny,” says Anakin, thinking of the _Executor_.

Selvig stares at him. “That thing possibly makes the _Eiffel Tower_ look small,” he says.

“It’s _tiny_ ,” Anakin argues.

\--

“You needn’t have come so far, Asgardian! Death would’ve come to you soon enough.”

Thor breathes out. “Not by your hand,” he snarls.

“Your universe was never meant to be,” Malekith growls, the Aether’s power making his voice sound oddly deeper. Thor grips his hammer tighter, does not dare look up at Anakin, working in the tower. “Your world, and your family, will be _extinguished_!”

Red dust bursts out of him, slamming back into Thor, who just barely manages to block with Mjolnir in time. The attack knocks him back into the grass, lightning crackling.

\--

“We’re running out of time,” says Selvig.

“We’re almost there,” says Anakin, fiddling with the dials on the device he’d rigged up from his old iPad. _Snips, where are you?_ he sends.

_Little busy, give us a second,_ Ahsoka sends back.

_Hurry up!_ he sends.

\--

Lightning crackles.

Thor skids back, then stands.

“You know, for all that power,” he says, with a little smile, “I thought you would hit harder.”

Then he hits back.

_Hard._

\--

“Goddammit, was that the rental?” says Selvig.

Anakin charges forward, squints. “Nah,” he says. “Well. Not yet, anyway.” He looks up at the sky, sees the portals--and the worlds they lead to--slowly beginning to align. “Okay, how long till it hits its peak?”

“Seven minutes,” says Selvig, grimly.

“Then we keep Malekith busy for eight,” he says. _Snips?_

_Done!_ Ahsoka calls. _Oh, and Darcy’s going to call you._

Sure enough, his phone starts blaring-- _I’ll tell you what I want what I really really want_ \--

“I’m going to kill Darcy, probably,” Anakin says, pulling his phone out of his pocket and then slipping it in between his shoulder and his ear, fiddling with the knobs. “Might wanna hold on to something,” he adds.

Selvig grips on to the pillar.

Anakin turns the knob.

The spike sends out a blue pulse, and suddenly four of the Dark Elves disappear from the lawn, caught in the pulse and sent somewhere else.

“Ha!” says Anakin.

“That is so amazing,” says Darcy, over the phone, clearly giddy. “How’d you do that?”

Anakin grins, says, “Well, the gravitational fields interact with the weak spots between worlds, thus creating, in effect, a wormhole--”

“Ooooh, get the guy with the sword!”

Anakin’s grin drops. He lets out a sigh. “I’m never appreciated,” he says, and turns the knob.

\--

Darcy blinks.

“Okay,” she says, staring around at the spot she and Ashley were _definitely not in_ , “what the hell just happened?”

“Skyguy got the wrong spike,” says Ashley.

“I’m gonna kick his ass,” Darcy decides, just before a Dark Elf drops out onto the car beside them, crushing the hood. “Agh!”

“Quick, move!” Ashley shouts, before another Dark Elf drops out onto the car, landing on its feet.

Darcy moves.

\--

The first hint that Obi-wan has that something is terribly wrong is Ahsoka’s brief, frantic call for him to close shop early and _get the hell out_.

The second comes when, while he’s in the middle of shooing out his customers, two white-masked creatures with _swords_ suddenly materialize in the middle of the shop. The remaining students scream, scramble towards the exit, as the two intruders brandish their swords like barbarians.

“God _dammit_ , Anakin,” says Obi-wan, to himself, before he pulls on the Force and shoves the two creatures out the window. “Go, go, _go_!”

“But I didn’t get my coffee yet!” one of the students moans.

“You’ll get it next week,” says Obi-wan, pushing him out the door. “And use the back door!”

\--

Anakin charges down to the library, Selvig trying to keep up with him, sees all the students and even a few librarians streaming for the windows, phones held aloft to catch a video of the battle on their lawn.

“The fuck are you all _doing_?” he yells. “Get out! _I said get the fuck out!_ ”

“You’re joking, right?” says one of them, turning to him and waving a hand at the battle outside. “That’s _Thor_ out there, waving his hammer about and everything!”

“John,” says Selvig, reasonably.

“I said,” Anakin snarls, pushing the Force into his words to sound more menacing than he is in his old cardigan, sweatpants, and motorcycle jacket, to amplify his voice, “all of you, _get the fuck out._ ”

They all turn to look at him, sheer shock and a little bit of fear written on their faces.

Then they scatter, moving away from the windows just seconds before the glass breaks, shards raining down on where they were.

“All right,” says Selvig, eyes cutting to Anakin, his brow furrowed as if he’s almost connecting the dots now, “what was that?”

“Drastic measures,” says Anakin, heaving out a breath and letting himself feel guilty for a second, before he squashes it down and steps forward. “All right, everybody look here. Me and Erik--yes, that Erik, the one streaking at Stonehenge, I can see you over there snickering, ma’am--are going to get you all out, but we need you to do it in an _orderly fashion_. And if I see one of you stopping to snap a picture of the battle, there’s going to be hell to pay.”

\--

They get them out.

\--

Obi-wan crashes down in front of the entrance to his shop, landing on his feet, the lightsaber igniting in his hands.

“All right, then,” he says, “we can still talk this out like _civilized_ \--”

One of the creatures throws a punch. Obi-wan ducks, slices his hand off, then Force-pushes him away.

“All right, we can’t,” he says. “A shame, I just got a new shipment in.”

\--

“Okay,” says Anakin, as he and Selvig come to a stop, the students and faculty having been evacuated, “okay, we need to--”

“What was that back there, John?” says Selvig.

“I said drastic measures,” says Anakin, while fiddling with the knobs. “Look, I’ll explain when we’re not being shot at by aliens, I just--”

He stops.

Looks up.

“Motherfucker,” he says, staring around at the street he wasn’t in before. “Selvig’s going to kill me.”

He turns and sees a flash of blue, and copper hair, swears, then sees a floating car.

Okay, basic science--mass stays the same, weight is only what changes, and weight is gravity’s effect on a person or a thing--Anakin picks up the car with one hand, prays the owner’s not around to see this, then spins in place and _throws_ it like a javelin, using the Force to guide it towards the squad of Dark Elves marching towards Obi-wan.

And it’s definitely Obi-wan, by the way he whips around and yells, “ _Anakin_!”

Anakin stares at him for a moment.

Then he marches up to him, draws his fist back, and slams it into his face.

“ _Ow_ \--”

“I _flirted with you_ ,” says Anakin. “You were there and I was telling you how your hair made you look like a king and _you knew who I fucking was all that time you son of a--_ ”

Obi-wan’s fist catches him off-guard, sends him reeling back as well.

“That felt good,” says Obi-wan, shaking his hand out. “What did you do _this_ time, Anakin?”

“It’s not my fault this time,” says Anakin, massaging his cheek. “Also, you get that one punch free because I deserved that.”

“I’m not arguing with that,” Obi-wan mutters, looking around. “What in the hell is going on here? I thought this kind of thing only happened in _America_.”

“Land of the free, home of the weird, yeah,” says Anakin. “But Greenwich is apparently where it’s all happening right now.” He pauses, looks down at the lightsaber and says, “And where did you get that? I know I shoved it in a castle somewhere.”

“I made a new one,” says Obi-wan, just as something flares up in the Force, a dark presence that makes him whip around.

“Oh, come on,” he says, seeing the squad of Dark Elves.

“Rather like old times, don’t you think?” says Obi-wan. “You losing your lightsaber, the two of us having to take on entire squadrons of droids together?”

“Yeah, these are more competent,” says Anakin. “Look, put that lightsaber away, I’m gonna science this shit.”

Obi-wan stares at him. Anakin takes a moment to revel in the pure shock rolling off his former master in waves. “That,” he manages, “is not a sentence I ever thought I’d hear from your mouth.”

“Yeah, well, today’s a first for me in lots of ways too,” says Anakin. “Just let them get closer--”

“They’re brandishing their swords.”

“Closer--”

“I do believe they want to kill us,” says Obi-wan.

“ _Closer_ \--”

“Anakin--”

“Now!” says Anakin, twisting a dial. There’s a blue pulse, and he blinks, stares around at the university grounds, the squad of Dark Elves, Obi-wan staring at him in shock, and Selvig dropping his equipment.

“Hi, Erik,” says Anakin. “This is, uh--”

“Ben,” says Obi-wan.

“Ben, this is Erik,” says Anakin. “Erik, ignore the lightsaber. Ben, don’t say anything about Stonehenge or pantslessness or I will punch you again.” He looks around, says, confused, “Where’s Thor?”

“Today,” says Selvig, practically cheerful, “the world is much crazier than I am.”

\--

“Okay, okay, this way--run _faster_ \--”

“I’m trying!” Darcy huffs. “I’m sorry I’m not freakishly tall like you or Doc or Thor--”

“Duck!” yells Ahsoka, seeing one of the Dark Elves pursuing them aiming his handheld cannon, and the two of them duck just before the shot hits the alleyway they emerged from.

Darcy drops to the ground, lets out a pained moan. Ahsoka gets to her feet, sees a squad marching on them just before something _huge_ bursts out of the alleyway, something with scales and spikes, and swallows up one of the squad before charging off, squashing four more under its feet.

Darcy gets to her feet and scurries away. Ahsoka follows, sees the floating car and the next squad in Darcy’s path, and makes her choice.

She ignites her lightsabers, springboards off the car, and lands in the middle of the squad.

They drop, some in pieces. Ahsoka feels a smidgen of sorrow, for these poor things, before she lets it go into the Force and turns to Darcy.

“You okay?” she asks.

“Holy fucking shit,” says Darcy. “You _saved my life_.”

“Yes,” says Ahsoka.

“You have _lightsabers_ ,” says Darcy.

“Yes,” says Ahsoka.

Darcy grins.

\--

Anakin twists the knob, and the hordes of Dark Elves chasing after them disappear.

“The hell,” he says, staring at Darcy, who’s somehow managed to dip Ahsoka in a kiss. A very passionate kiss, judging by how hard they’re both kissing and how low Darcy’s managed to dip Ahsoka. “Snips?”

“Darcy?” says Selvig.

“Erik!” says Darcy, dropping Ahsoka.

“Skyguy!” says Ahsoka. “And Ben!”

“Ashley,” says Obi-wan, in a flat tone. “And Ms. Lewis.”

Thor’s hammer whizzes past, followed by Darcy’s shout of, “Myuh-myuh!”

“Hammer,” says Anakin, just to have something to say. “But where’s Thor?”

“Can we worry about your ex later?” says Ahsoka, igniting her lightsabers. Anakin turns, sees the brilliant white light of her ‘sabers and Obi-wan’s pale blue beam, and his hand unconsciously goes to his belt, closing around nothing. “Right now there’s a battle on.”

“Your ex--did you _break up_ with Thor?” says Darcy. “Oh my god. Doc. _What the fuck._ ”

“Where did these people even get lightsabers?” Selvig asks.

“They made them,” says Anakin, glancing up at the sky. “Uh, guys? We’re almost out of time.”

“Go find Thor!” yells Ahsoka. “We’ll keep these guys busy--”

Anakin twists a dial instead, and watches coolly as half the horde disappears into thin air. “You were saying?” he says, dryly. “Because I’m not leaving you, Snips.”

\--

“How do I get to Greenwich?” says the actual Thor.

Jyn stares at him. Of all the times to run into an Avenger, it had to be on her way to work. Or, well, her cover job, anyway.

“Uh,” she says, glancing at Cassian seated just a few seats away, who’s eyeing Thor with a guarded interest. Beside him, a young girl is frantically taking pictures. “Well, you’re in luck, this is Canary Wharf, Greenwich is the next stop.”

“Thank you,” says Thor, stepping inside.

The train doors shut, the train moves.

Jyn looks at Cassian and mouths, _what the fuck is going on in Greenwich._

_No fucking clue,_ Cassian mouths back.

\--

The nine worlds align.

“We’re too late,” says Darcy.

“No, we aren’t,” says Anakin, picking up the spikes and feeling around for Thor’s presence in the Force, like a lightning storm. It’s nearby, he realizes. “Thor’s here.”

He takes off, trusting everyone will be behind him, and finds Thor emerging from the tube station, staring up at the tornado of black and red dust that’s begun to kick up in the plaza. “Thor!” he calls.

“John,” says Thor, turning. “Are you all right?” He pauses, squints at Obi-wan, and says, “And who is this man?”

“Fine, I’m fine, and that’s Ben, he was a friend of mine,” says Anakin, staring up at the tornado, all his senses _screaming_ at how wrong it feels in the Force. “Can you get through that storm?”

“Yes, of course I can,” says Thor, sounding faintly offended.

Anakin gives him two spikes, just as Ahsoka catches up to him. He turns to her and says, “I need one of your lightsabers.”

“Why?” she asks.

“I’m going to clear a path,” says Anakin, glancing at Selvig. “Chase a storm.”

“You’re not planning on--” Darcy starts.

“I am,” says Anakin, grimly, taking hold of the lightsaber Ahsoka holds out to him. It’s an unfamiliar weight in his hands, the hilt made for a hand of flesh instead of metal, so he switches to his left instead. He turns to Thor, who nods. “I’m the one who bonded with the Aether. Thor and I have the best chance of neutralizing it, if we can’t destroy it outright.”

“And we can destroy Malekith, if not the Aether itself,” says Thor.

“Careful out there, Skyguy,” says Ahsoka. “And give me back my lightsaber once you’re done.”

“I’m not going to _lose_ it,” says Anakin, with a huff.

“He’s going to lose it,” says Obi-wan, ever the optimist. Anakin’s missed him, he realizes, and for a moment it’s almost like the old days again.

He lets the moment pass, and looks up at the storm, then back at Darcy and Selvig. He makes a choice.

“Darcy,” he says, pushing the device into her hands, “I’m trusting you with this. Turn that dial--the one in the upper right corner--clockwise when we’ve activated the spikes and it starts beeping. Got it?”

“Got it,” says Darcy, staring up at him in shock. “Doc, you better come back safe, all right? I need those credits.”

“I will,” he huffs, then turns to the storm. He glances back at them, then sighs. “Skywalker,” he says. “My mother’s name was Skywalker.”

“Wait,” says Selvig, “what? John, what the _hell_ \--”

Anakin charges forward into the storm, the lightsaber igniting, and behind him, Thor’s footsteps sound like thunder booming.

\--

The Aether’s a petty, spiteful, _hateful_ little thing, Anakin’s found. He’s seen that before, _served_ that before for too long not to recognize it when he sees it.

That’s half the reason why he takes Ahsoka’s lightsaber. The hum of her white ‘saber in his hand overpowers the Aether’s roar in his ears, the vengeful, wordless snarl--that’s the closest word he has for whatever it’s doing--that seems to emanate from all around him.

_This universe was never meant to be,_ it whispers, in a language that he barely understands. _Why do you fight for it?_

He realizes what it’s trying to do almost too late, when the Aether swirls around him, trying to seep into him once more, and slams his shields down, pushes the Aether outward with the Force and keeps it there, trying to shield himself with the Force. He holds Ahsoka’s lightsaber out in front of him like a torch, and focuses on the blazing white light, like a star against the night sky.

Like a candle, holding back the dark.

The Aether hisses, recoiling from the burning light of Ahsoka’s lightsaber. Anakin lets himself be viciously satisfied, and deeply proud of his padawan.

“Anakin!” Thor yells, somewhere in the storm.

“Right here, just follow the light!” Anakin shouts, and squints as Thor emerges from the dust, two spikes in hand. “You all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” says Thor. “I’d be better if I had Mjolnir back, but these spikes will do.” He looks at the center of the storm. “I’ve a plan.”

“Is it going to work out better than the last one you had?” Anakin says, ignoring the way the Aether tries to burn him, the dust trying to cut through his shields and through him. It can’t do the same to Thor, Asgardians are tougher than humans are, but he knows that it’s trying to kill him. Again.

He’s not going to let it have that satisfaction.

“Haha, very funny, Anakin,” says Thor, and tells him.

\--

“Darkness returns, Asgardian. Have you come to witness the end of your universe?”

Anakin breathes out, aims the spike like a javelin, and pulls on the Force even more.

“We’ve come to accept your surrender,” says Thor--the signal. Anakin throws, uses the Force to nudge the spike closer to its mark, and Malekith catches the spike in his hand, looks down at it as if in contempt.

\--

Darcy looks down at the device, beeping wildly. She twists the dial.

“Did something happen?” she asks. “I have no idea what’s happening in there.”

\--

Thor throws the next spike, and it buries itself in Malekith’s right shoulder. Malekith lets out a primal snarl, steps forward and reaches out his hand, the Aether about to strike out.

Anakin reacts faster than Thor does, sprinting forward to cut Malekith’s hand off. There’s a blue pulse, and the rest of the arm is gone, and Anakin swings--

\--finds himself thrown backwards.

The lightsaber skitters from his hand, and he looks up just in time to see Malekith walking towards him, the Aether forming limbs to replace the ones he’s lost. Anakin lets out a quiet curse, reaches his hand out towards the lightsaber and wills it into his hand.

“You think you can stop this, pitiful little mortal?” Malekith snarls. “You cannot destroy the Aether! You, son of suns, will _die_.”

“I’ve died before,” says Anakin, looking up to see Thor, the hammer in one hand and the spike in the other, leaping towards Malekith with a mighty roar, “and I’m not dying today.”

Anakin rolls out of the way just in time, picking up and igniting the lightsaber just as Thor stabs Malekith through the back with the last spike, the hammer crashing down to nail the Dark Elf to the ground, face-down.

There’s a blue pulse, stronger than the last few, and the storm dissipates at last.

Anakin lets go of the Force, breathes out, and collapses.

\--

The ship starts to collapse.

Thor blinks awake, to find Anakin unconscious, directly in the path of the Dark Elves’ ship, falling apart above them and sending debris everywhere.

“Anakin!” he yells, rushing to the man’s side. Picking him up is easy, despite Anakin’s height, but there’s a number of obstacles in the way, like the debris--falling on them and already on the ground. He moves anyway, tries to weave around what’s already in their path, but something falls off the ship and lands directly in front of them, shearing off Thor’s planned route.

They’re not going to get out in time. Calling and flying with Mjolnir requires one hand free, and Thor cannot leave Anakin here.

He breathes out, lays him down against a piece of debris, and leans over him. Maybe if there’s a body between him and the ship he’ll have a chance.

Thor closes his eyes, and prays his mother will forgive him when she wakes up.

He opens them again, and looks up to find that the ship has simply disappeared.

“Doc!” Darcy calls, as Thor lifts Anakin back up into his arms. She charges forward, casting the device aside, Ahsoka right behind her, and says, “Holy shit, is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” says Ahsoka, then, “He is fine, right?”

“He’s all right,” says Thor, trying for a reassuring smile. From Ahsoka raising her brows and Darcy scrunching up her face, he imagines his attempt did not come off too well.

“Yes, he’s fine,” Ben calls from the side, where he and Selvig are talking now, apparently getting along. “It’s called burnout. He hasn’t used his--abilities in _years_ , using them to this extent must’ve taken a toll on him. He’ll be fine after a day’s rest.”

Thor looks down on Anakin, peacefully asleep in his arms.

He says, “I made certain not to crush the rental in our battle, though I am not sure if it managed to survive intact anyway. Is it intact?”

“Yeah, for the most part,” says Darcy. “But it’s gonna be a tight squeeze.” She looks at Anakin, gives a tired sigh, and says, “Doc, you’d better wake up real soon. I’ve got a lot of questions for you, and they all start with, _Who the fuck are you?_ ”

Anakin barely even stirs.


End file.
